Protect you
by Scar7
Summary: What happens when the impulses take over, someone fails to stop being dangerous and someone else can't stop thinking of a new feeling growing inside him? What would you do to protect the person you love?
1. Chapter 1

_**Protect you**_

**Author: Scar  
Beta-reader: Hannival Kinney  
Category: Soap opera  
Series: Hollyoaks  
Characters: Brendan Brady, Stephen Hay, Declan Brady  
Genre: drama, angst, romance, suspense.  
Rating: R, orange  
Warnings: slash, hurt / comfort, domestic abuse, Ste/OMC**  
**Summary: No Joel, no Doug, no Deli. Just a little thing written around December, before Brendan fired Ste. **

**Love is a strong force to be reckoned with, but is it enough to be happy?**

**What happens when the impulses take over, when someone fails to stop being violent and dangerous and someone else can not stop thinking of a new feeling growing inside him? What would you do to protect the person you love?**

**chap 1**

As soon as the ship docked at the pier, Brendan sent a message to Cheryl to let her know that he would have joined the club with Declan by the time they agreed on.

The man put on his sunglasses to shield himself against the glaring red of the sunset and, probably, to prevent someone from seeing his eyes, wet for the inevitable emotion of seeing his kid after months.

Many things had happened in the meantime.

He had hired Mitzeee to work at the club, Joel had left the village again headed towards an unknown destination, and above all he had given Stephen his old job back. His relationship with him, now, was limited mostly to the one between employee and employer, at best. However, sometimes it happened that the lad ended up breaking a glass, forgot to run an errand or opened his mouth inappropriately. The possibility that one of the former events could happen was almost nonexistent, actually. Stephen was the best worker he ever had, but also the worst treated. Sometimes, though, the bartender could not help himself and, when there was no one around, he would yell his anger against Brendan's face, and then he would promptly threaten to quit.

But he never did.

The next day he would be back to serve behind the counter or cleaning the floors. Brendan knew too well that Stephen needed that job, the flexible hours, the bonuses every month, and he used it to take advantage of him in every way.

Sometimes he even felt the temptation to fire him, or found himself hoping that Stephen would actually go ahead with his threats and not come back the next day, sparing him the trouble and the inevitable guilt which hit him in the most unexpected moments.

This happened, especially, when he used to stop watching, with big disappointment, his haughty profile, lips bent down, or his bright smiles direct to anyone but him. Teasing him for every little thing was the only way not to being ignored.

He hated him in moments like those. And he hated himself for what he had to do.

But now it would all end. His son would fill the void that had become his life in the last months.

His ex-wife had agreed to let Declan spend the whole summer with him. There was no way to pursue the issue, but Brendan had sensed that something unsaid was hidden behind her sudden burst of generosity, guessing, correctly, that adolescence was a step too turbulent and difficult to manage even for her.  
Declan appeared behind the travelers' tail, porcupine hair and a huge smile on his lips. Brendan waited till he was near, then pulled him into his arms.

"Hey! Mickey money!" Brendan addressed him, ruffling his hair and noticing immediately that Declan was taller than him by a couple of inches.

"What the hell did your mother give ye to eat?" He asked, as they walked towards the car.

Declan replied with a mocking laugh, complacent, straightening his shoulders in a exaggerated way to further increase those embarrassing inches of difference.

_Arsehole._

During the first part of the trip, the man enthusiastically informed himself about the latest developments in Declan and Padraig's lives. Declan took part in the conversation with several monosyllables, such as _yes, no, I dunno, maybe,_ plus a whole lot of gibberish that meant nothing. Then he used the second part of the journey to brush up a bit Bradys' old rules: don't walk around too much, don't come back home late, don't go to the club when it's too full, but above all...  
"How are things with Ste?"

Exactly!

"I'd rather ye had nothing to do with him."

"Why?"

"It's a long story," snapped his father.

"We have time," replied the boy, insisting, determined to know what was bothering his father, now that his sexual tastes were no longer a secret. Or there was more?

Brendan exhaled a long sigh. "he disappointed me."

"How?"

"Well... ye know... When I had been accused of those murders ... "

"Ste thought you were guilty or something?"  
His moustache jerked in a spasm of confirmation, while a flash of that terrible time pierced his mind from side to side causing him only the ghost of that old, familiar pain, but still pain. But now, unlike before, he could talk. Even if briefly.

"I thought you had left everything behind you, Dad."

"I did" he confirmed, flashing a toothy smile under his moustache, large and bright. Almost sincere.

"Why then?" tried his son, again.

"Ye can't trust him and I don't want ye to deal with people like him. That's all!"  
Brendan could not tell him that, in the past, he had also given Stephen good reasons to believe him guilty of the murders, but fuck, he couldn't just get over it. And in any case he needed this. He needed to keep that grudge against him to avoid the need he felt for him more than he was able to admit.

Time wasn't good to calm his emotions, whether good or bad they were; neither it was fucking other guys or plunging headlong into work; taking care of his sister, always in pieces for a relationship gone wrong, helping her to put together the shreds for what it was possible; or getting close to his children again, after months in which he had kept apart, convinced he was a worse father than he had ever been.

Declan muttered something that sounded like an okay, but after a few minutes of silence he resumed.

"You loved him a lot, didn't you?"

Brendan looked away from the road for a few moments, staring at him open-mouthed. He had never thought that his son could be so direct.

"It was so obvious" replied Declan, with an arrogant look. "Although he has always denied there was something between the two of you... just as you've always done. "  
Brendan frowned, puzzled. Who knows why he had thought Stephen was unable to keep his mouth shut, especially when he had the opportunity to make him worse in front of his son's eyes. Earlier, somehow, he had come out with this conviction and Declan had simply responded that Stephen had never talked about him.

"And what have ye talked about?" He had asked that time, after they had resumed to phone each other thanks Cheryl and Eileen's intercession.

"Mostly about me," had said Declan simply.

Brendan remembered he had laughed hysterically, and still he hardly saw Stephen as a good listener, with large mouth he had. Suddenly, all the times when he had sealed his lips with his own, driven him on the bed, suffocating him and reducing him in silence with his kisses came back to him, causing an incipient erection.

He took a deep breath and snorted. "It was a mistake, a very big mistake," he said finally, looking ahead.

"So... now... I mean... it's over between you two? "

Brendan glanced at him, frowning. "Dead and gone."

Declan did not utter another word, but his father, his eyes again absorbed in the guide and his head lost somewhere, did not notice the smug smile on his son's face.

_Your love is mine for the taking  
My love is  
Just waiting  
To turn your tears to roses_


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you very much for all your lovely reviews. Although English isn't my first languange I wanted to try something new, and here I am! I hope you'll like it. Feedback is always appreciated! xx**

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**Chapter 2**

Declan stared puzzled at the club enter. It looked like an deserted place, wrapped like that in the darkness and in the silence.  
His father gently guided him on the steps, barely visible. Then, when they reached the top, a sudden burst of joyous screams made him almost jump, frighting him. The lights turned on suddenly and dozens of people rushed to wish him an happy birthday. Declan, though, stunned by the unexpected surprise, felt the need to reply with a half smile at the procession of all those faces he did not remember at all. He smiled, with more conviction, when Linsey and Cheryl greeted him.

"Happy birthday, darling!" said his aunt, with her shrilling voice.

"Ta- thank you," the boy hesitated. Then he turned to his father, whispering. "The last time I checked there were still five months before my birthday."  
"Well ... actually, today we celebrate your fourteenth, since I have been ... uh ... prevented from participating," he said, vaguely embarrassed.

"But who cares? Think of the presents!" said his aunt, who massaged his shoulders, awkwardly pushing him towards the couch.

A myriad of packages were on the coffee table in front of him.

He had never been into parties, especially the surprise ones, but his father couldn't have known that, like so many other things about him. Declan began to unwrap the presents and the more expensive of them came from Brendan, of course: a notebook, the newest model. Then he accepted to drink some coke, looking around and noticing only in that moment that the guests were mostly employees of the club.

"Ste's not here, is he?" he casually asked.

"He's not a family member" growled his father.

"Naturally," replied the boy, deadly.

Of course everyone else was.

The next morning Declan woke up a bit later than usual. The journey and that strange late birthday - or early, it depended on which side at the calendar you looked - had been exhausting. When he stepped into the kitchen, the first thing that his eye met was a note attached to the microwave. Chez let him know that she was gone with Brendan at the Subar to meet some suppliers. There was something ready to eat in the oven, she added, otherwise he could meet them at the bar.

Declan decided to munch what he could find around, then to go for a walk in the village or the near park. Maybe he would come across someone interesting.

Before leaving, he remembered of the rugby ball given to him by his aunt, so he decided without any hesitations that his goal would have been the park.  
The clearing was mostly occupied by couples lying under the sun. He targeted a smaller tree, and began training to launch the ball over its crown. He could spend many hours doing just that, and in fact he lost track of time. A call from his father hastily dragged him back to reality. Fortunately, he did not seem annoyed by his little disappearance, but he told him to join him to the Dog for lunch.

Declan felt rather relieved to have another hour at his disposal for his training. But now he had lost his focus; the next launch was far from precise, and his ball veered in the direction of the grove.

As he was about to look for it, where the bushes were gradually thicker, he heard voices coming from his right side, just from the clearing where children's rides were located.  
He had already tried to call Ste, he had tried for days but couldn't seem to reach him. And, instead, there he was with his two children, playing and joking as if he was a child himself. He could not remember similar moments with his father when he was younger. Then Mike had tried to involve him, playing with him and his brother, but the magic was gone. One day, without even realizing it, he woke up too grown up to be on a swing.

However, watching Ste raising his baby over his shoulder, hearing him laugh, as he hadn't the last time he saw him, gave him a warm feeling in the center of his chest. Without his father's interference, he would surely have had the opportunity to be closer to Ste, but now that everything had changed – he, most of all, had changed - he would not give it up for anything in the world.

"Hey," he said when he was close to him.  
"Hey!" replied Ste, mildly surprised at seeing him appear without notice.

The smile seemed to disappear off Ste's face in that moment, and Declan felt a pang where before there were only warmth and peace. He had imagined a thousand times their meeting, and in his imagination it had never been so disheartening.

"When did ya get here?" asked Ste, while Lucas was tugging at his sleeve, relentlessly demanding his attention.

"Yesterday evening," he replied. "It was a shame you weren't at the surprise party. Really cool, "he concluded wryly.

"I suppose so," replied Ste with the same tone.

They looked at each other for a few moments before starting to laugh.

Lucas began to protest with more ardor and his father hastened to satisfy him, lifting into the air and set him on top of the slide.  
"May I take some photos?" Declan asked suddenly.

"Why?" said Ste distractedly, while Lucas was back to square one.

He lifted his shoulders lightly. "Just to have a souvenir to take home. All of you are so beautiful together. I like children. "

For a few seconds Ste looked at him vaguely puzzled, then smiled."Okay!" he assented. "Just don't show them to your father."

"No chance," he said merrily.

Ste crouched between Lucas and Leah, but the youngest suffered showing his impatience, typical of that age; the rides were something too good to gave up even for one second, after all. Leah, instead, seemed to possess an innate gift as a model; even if in miniature, she was a girl after all, and like all the girls she loved flirting, and very probably she had even a half a crush on him.  
"Never mind," he said. "I'll take some pictures anyway. The spontaneous ones are the best. "

Several shots later, Declan and Ste were sitting on a bench nearby, their faces in favor of the warm sunshines, while the children were swinging on their own.

"I'm happy to see you again. It's not the same talking to you on the phone . "

Ste sighed deeply.

"It seems that you aren't very happy, though," he added with a touch of disappointment.

Ste sighed again. "Nonsense. I was surprised, but... I mean ... our chats were nice, weren't they? "

Declan nodded, smiling. "So, what's the problem?"

"You know what the problem is. If your father finds out ... "

"Dad can't choose my friends. Old men are a pain in the arse sometimes. "

Ste snapped his head towards him, eyes wide. "Brendan isn't old!"

"But he behaves like as if he was," sighed the boy.

"He's just a bit... sometimes..." he stopped, unable to find the right word between 'special 'or 'crazy '.

"Do you still like him?" Declan suddenly asked, making him blush.

"Your father hates me."

"You didn't answer my question, though."  
Ste snorted a little nervous laugh, and his eyes strategically deviated from him to his children, hoping that Brendan's topic would have been dropped quickly as the way it had been raised. Declan's phone came to his rescue. The boy sighed, quickly looking at the message that his father had sent him, then put the phone in his pocket, with all the intentions of ignoring it.

"Was it him?"

Declan nodded. "But he can wait," he added.

"I would not make him wait if I were you. I gotta go anyway... if I can get off those two from there."

Ste quickly got up and joined his children who already who were already beginning to protest.

"Can we see each other, again? Just... to talk. '"

"You should have friends of your own age" Ste advised him, frowning.

"Naah!" He exclaimed, shaking his head. "Talking with you is easier."

"Oh!" Ste blinked, confused. "With an old man like me?"

"Roughly".

"Brendan will kill me."

"I'll protect you," he retorted before greeting him.

Declan justified himself for the delay with his father, saying he had lost the new ball and he had spent much time looking for it; it was true, after all. Brendan made him promise to tell him even about even the slightest mishap if the thing happened again.

He would have never thought of having to admit it, but sometimes his father could be worse than his mother. Great!

After spending the afternoon with his new computer, after dinner he barricaded himself in his room to download photos from his phone.

That morning, in the park, there was a wonderful light, and the pictures looked like small masterpieces. There were four or five with the children, but most of them showed a single subject and, in his opinion, they were the best.

_Despite the Lies That You're making  
I will be the one that's gonna hold you  
I will be The One That You run to  
My love is  
A burning, consuming fire_


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks a lot for your appreciation. Sorry for any mistakes, I hope there aren't many.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 3**

That evening Ste had another bad discussion with Brendan.

Again.

His boss had arranged for him a whole morning to the Subar after that night shift, and then another shift in the club until the end of the day. Brendan could invent a million techniques for torturing anyone, but harassment always was his favorite one. Ste thought he had plenty of reasons for hating him, or at least to denounce him as slaver, but instead, with his usual and marmoreal gaze, the man handed him fifty pounds as an incentive, and Ste swallowed down all the insults, still burning on the tip of his tongue, and all curses he would have liked to mutter.

Furious - especially with himself - he began to dust the shelves with such ferocity as if they had been the cause of all his miseries. Around nine o'clock Declan came in.

"Hey! Something wrong? "  
Ste twanged a terrified glance between him and the door closed which Brendan had barricaded behind.

"Dec... please... ignore me when your father is around "

The boy's face clouded. "What's he done this time?" he insisted.

Ste shook his head, and wiped the counter with greater force. "Nothing. He did nothing. "

Declan looked at him without conviction. His attention fell immediately on the office door, and the boy was suddenly determined to talk to his father, or at least to try to make him understand that his obstinacy wouldn't lead them anywhere. However, when he was in front of him, he realized that talking about Ste was out of the question. His father had hunted him shouting to return home, and if that was half of his anger, he couldn't imagine what it had been like with Ste; but he could tell why the villagers were still felt frightened to hear the name of Brendan Brady.  
When Declan left the office, the club was much crowded than before, and Ste was already busy with beers and cocktails. Despite the ban, he still wanted to stay a couple of minutes, hoping that his father wouldn't decide to suddenly come out of his cave.

At the end, those minutes turned into an half-hour. He was about to leave when a guy, who had been leaning against the counter in the last ten minutes, started talking with Ste in a too familiar way he didn't like. It seemed like Ste found him nice, though. Declan could tell that from the way Ste smiled at him, or from his short laughs, probably after some stupid joke.

Declan, even afar, could see the whole scene, imagining every single word that they exchanged.  
At one point, the guy handed Ste something, probably a business card with a phone number and other informations. At the same time, Declan felt the same bad feeling you got after eating sour milk, but much more intense. He clenched his fists and a desire to use them slipped like an electric wave from his stomach to his muscles. He jumped up from the couch, as the office door suddenly opened up, banging loudly on the opposite side. Declan walked back, hiding behind a group of dancing people. He doubted, however, that in that moment his father could have noticed him. Saying that he was furious was an understatement.

Declan saw him arguing with Ste for a few seconds and then he was back in his office, slamming the door again. Finally, he decided to leave.

"Sorry," said Ste "But my contract does not allow me to socialize with costumers."

"Strange," replied the guy. "I always thought the bartenders did that for vocation."

"Not here, apparently," said Ste, with a half smile.

"Where... then? "

Ste stared at him for a few embarrassing moments, feeling suddenly awkward for the fact that the guy had reached out over the counter, invading his personal space. "T... The next week my shifts are absurd, starting tomorrow ... I mean... in a few hours. "

"I'm a patient guy," replied the other one.

"I'll let you know, okay?"

"I'm counting on this. You have my number. In the meantime... may I have something to kill the time? "

Ste frowned. "What?"  
With one single move, the guy completely erased the few inches that separated them and planted a quick peck on his lips.

Ste stayed stiff like a pole. He hadn't even had time to realize it.

"You'll got me into trouble," he sighed, once he had recovered from the surprise.

"Clairvoyant?" said the young man, pointing to the staff office with a little nod of his chin.

"Surveillance cameras" replied Ste , narrowing his eyes.

"Oops!"

"Maybe, it's better you get back to your friends," Ste begged him.

The guy nodded, going reluctantly away, but all the time he sought his eyes, waiting for a smile of his.

Ste felt a strange kind of pleasure, after all. When his shift was over and the club remained desert, he found him still there, waiting for him.  
He was very nice, he thought, kind, even though a bit impetuous. He was not used to someone like that. He grabbed his jacket and was about to take the stairway leading to the main entrance when a deep and firm voice stopped him.

"Stephen!"

Ste took a deep breath, his eyes closed, before turning around.

"I'm off. What do ya want now? " He asked, looking at him annoyed.

"About your shifts..." Brendan began, and Ste saw his moustache rising rhythmically, from right to left, like all times he struggled to find words or a decent excuse for his actions, more or less objectionable.

"We can talk about that," he added, after a brief pause.

Ste stared at him in surprise. "Now?"

Brendan nodded with a single gesture of his head and hurried back to the office.

Ste turned to the young man with whom he had decided to go home.

"Is it okay if we do this another time?" he tried, coyly. "I'll call ya".  
The young man nodded, then he started to head down the stairs with a distressed look.

Ste sucked all the air he could and marched stiffly to the office; he found Brendan sitting at his desk and apparently absorbed in considering the grid of his employees' work schedules .

"You've already ruined my working day" began Ste, fiercely pointing his hands at all his papers. "Now you're starting to do this even with my time off?"

Brendan laced his fingers ahead and barely raised his eyebrows, looking at him impassive. "And what's your... uh ... time off's name? "

"This is none of your business" growled Ste, taking again the direction of the exit.

"Everything's my business, when ye pull in my club."  
Ste stopped, and turned abruptly to him, his brow furrowing and a his lips reduced to a hard line.

"Let's finish all this for good, then. Do you want to make my life a living hell? Do you want me to quit? Well, ya won. Anywhere will be better than 'ere. "

Cursing through his teeth, he took off his jacket and pulled off his T-shirt with the Chez Chez's logo, throwing it in the man's direction. Brendan caught it, then he quickly jumped towards the door. He grabbed Ste's arm, before he was had chance to leave the office.

"Geroff me!" Ste cried, trying to free himself, but Brendan's strength had always been out of his reach. "You're hurting me!" he snarled.

Brendan loosened his grip, but without letting go him completely. "I just wanted to talk civilly," he hissed in his ear, but enunciating the words properly.  
Ste looked at him with a look of resentment, then he started shouting and gesticulating like a madman. "Ah! Now ya want to talk civilly? And when I wanted you to offer my help, eh? When I asked your forgiveness for leaving in that damn prison ... when ... "

His eyes filled with tears. He tried to drive them back, breathing deeply.

"Every single day, I hoped ye appeared in that waiting room. Ye didn't even ever asked news about me " Brendan intervened in a hoarse voice.

Ste shook his head. "How could I have known that ... I couldn't"

"You really believed that I had killed those girls and Rae, Stephen?" interrupted Brendan lugubriously. "Did you have any idea of how I felt?"

His voice trembled just at this point.

" 'Cause ya never given to me any reason to think that, right? Have not I paid enough for having doubted ya for a single fucking time? I've always trusted you. Always! Even after all the promises ya didn't keep, all the lies, when ya frighted Amy, every time you hit me, even when... when you killed Danny Houston."  
Hearing that name, Brendan turned white and his hands became livid and cold like a corpse. And finally he let him go.

Ste tried a slight pain in his chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't want... I didn't..."

"For months ..." Brendan began, his blue and wet eyes slightly turned towards the ceiling. "...every night I saw myself down in the cellar, grabbing that hammer and hitting Danny until I had no more force left. For months I had the same question in my head, until now. Would I do it again? Yes. I'd do it, Stephen.. for you. "

Ste started to look at him, while all his past feelings, well-known but still unbearable, began to rush in his chest all at the same time.

"I only did it to protect you, Stephen," croaked Brendan, and even his breathing began to tremble.

"I know," said Ste, lightly squeezing his arm as a sign of comfort. "I know," he repeated, unable to take his hand and his eyes off him.

"After all" Ste replied, trying in vain to look away from him, "I never truly believed that you were guilty, but ya hurt me so badly that I needed to believe it to hate you even more."

"Do you hate me?" Brendan asked in a small whisper.

Ste would have wanted to say yes, but he knew it would just be another lie.

He shook his head, unable to make a sound.

Brendan smiled, then put his own hand on his, still standing on his arm.

"Me neither," he replied. "God knows I tried. "

It was the first time in months that they looked at each other without launching poison, the first time they wanted to look into each other's eyes without the risk of looking weak.

Brendan seemed to hesitate, perhaps scared of losing forever the contact of their hands and their eyes, and that any movement on his part could send Ste away from him forever. Ste felt from within the same insecurity and a similar fear of breaking their contact, even if unsatisfactory. The history was about to happen again, because he knew – they both knew – that neither of them could survive long without the other. A year had passed since their on-off relationship, or whatever it was, seemed to have ended once for all. But, as always, he did not care. So he began to stroke his face, after an eternity, tasting again that familiar feeling of roughness and softness at the same time. Just like him, he thought, as a warm wave was spreading in his chest.

At that precise moment, anger and disappointment came to take refuge in the deepest recesses of his soul, where he had been careful, in the past months, to shut out the pain for seeing him going home with a different guy every night.

Ste saw Brendan closing his eyes, breathing slowly, smiling slightly. Then he opened his eyes again, looking carefully into his own.

"I want you, Stephen," Brendan gasped. "I never stopped wanting you."

Ste felt shaking inside. So touched his lips with his fingers, almost hesitant, fearing that it was a dream yet. Then he heard that he had no reason to resist what he was feeling at that moment. He loved him - he had never stopped, not really - and this was the only thing he was not able to hide in the depths of his heart. He clasped his hands behind Brendan's neck, stroking his hair behind his head, inching closer with every part of his body.

Brendan replied to the comfort of those arms, lifting his own, until then his sides, and by sliding them slowly behind the bare back of Ste And all that was not broken the invisible thread that united their eyes, eyes that had passed from grief to desire in a time of a breath.

Brendan began to embrace him, as if he wanted to impress new tracks under his fingers, then lifted him from the floor and let him fall on the couch of that small room. When he began to cover his face and his chest in kisses, the time seemed to stop.

A distant noise suddenly broke that enchantment.

"There's someone" Ste gasped, craning his neck towards the open door of the office.  
In response, Brendan closed the door with his foot and slid the bolt, then hurried to pick up from when he had left off.

But everything went on in a much more rapid and chaotic way. Ste didn't even realize how they want from tearing off their clothes to fuck like madmen, to feeling Brendan inside him again, hard and hot, as if it hadn't never been a horrible past behind, trouble to divide them, and as if there would be no more possibility of a future together; from their groaning increasingly frantic to dead silence at the end of it all, when he was still under Brendan's body, while their breath subsided.

The darkest images invested him in that short amount of time: Brendan going, leaving him in a sea of sweat and semen; Brendan saying that it had been nice, but that now he could pick up his stuff and just do one, dismissing him as any of his lovers.

The man, instead, raised his head from the hollow of his neck and began to look at him with his most intense look. Ste didn't notice his own tears until Brendan wiped them with his thumb, and then kissed him gently.

"You coming back to mine?" He asked, his voice hoarse.

Ste kept looking at him in silence, mesmerized by the thrill in every wrinkle of his face.

"Don't worry. Consider yerself exonerated from yer shift at dawn,"said Brendan, smiling wryly.


	4. Chapter 4

**A short and quick chapter, but don't get used to it, ok?**

**Thanks for your reviews, they mean a lot to me. **

**I would like to inform you that this fic is almost complete on my pc, in italian of course. I'm currently writing the last chapter and maybe I'll write an epilogue, so it consists of 12-13 chapters in total.**

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**Chapter 4**

Ste loved watching Brendan sleep.

He loved listening to his breath, his grunts in the silence of the room; he loved the way he curled up his lips and sighed. And also, as soon as he saw him move in the attempt of waking up, he loved to torment him, drawing abstract figures on his skin with his fingers, risking every time to be sent flying off the bed at the slightest discomfort.

As soon as he heard him moaning his name, Brendan's eyes still closed, Ste used to stick his nose in the crook of his neck, beginning to caress his skin with his own lips. Then, gradually, he did the same along his chest, followed the line of his abs, arriving to his groin. At this point, Brendan used to wake up completely, and he certainly didn't hurl him out of the bed, but stayed to admire, panting for the appreciation, Ste's movements under the sheet.

Something unexpected happened that time, though.

"JESUS CHRIST!"

Cheryl appeared unannounced in the doorway and her scream was an explosion in the dreaming quiet of that morning.

"BRENDAN" yelled his sister again, petrified by that scene.

Ste's little head popped among the purple sheet, even though Brendan was trying to restrain him.

"JESUS CHRIST! STE! "

"Hiya, Cheryl!" greeted the boy, waving his hand timidly, with a sheepish grin.

The woman gasped for a moment, not knowing whether to shoot a few poisonous words or laugh. At the end she decided on a strategic and rapid flight.

"I thought ye had locked the door, Stephen," said Brendan, in a colorless tone.

"I thought ya did," said Ste in the same tone. "So what now?" He added, looking at Brendan who began to rub his forehead thoughtfully.

"I think I'm hopelessly compromised" he replied, looking in his direction. A serious glance. "I'm afraid you'll have to marry me. "

A big smile shone on Ste's face, but soon after a pillow pecked on it.

It was the beginning of a brief struggle.

Those were the moments that Ste loved above all, those were the small joys that could completely make him forget all the terrible things he tried to leave behind.

He started to get out of bed, instantly restrained by Brendan.

"Where are ye going?" he asked, gruffly.

"I thought ..."

"Stay where ye are and resume what ye were doing!"

Ste smiled again, beaming, and hastened to carry out his duties.

Much later, at an almost indecent time, they dressed and left the room.

Brendan found a note which warned him that Declan had gone to the park. Cheryl had gone to the bar hours ago.

"We are alone" chirped Ste, twining his own arms around Brendan's shoulders, who began to stare at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"The night is over, Stephen."

The boy stiffened and, stepping back, began to stare at him with a puzzled look, soon replaced by a more bitter one in his bright eyes.

"Yeah! Last night was last night, and today is another day. I'm such an idiot! I should have remembered it. "

He spun around and headed towards the door.

Brendan reached out his arm, blocking him instantly and, without moving an inch, drew him back to himself.

"I'm too old for such games, Stephen," he began, imprisoning him in his embrace.

Then, putting his hands around Ste's head, he pulled him to a few millimeters of air from his own lips, their foreheads touching. "Go home to your children and Amy who, I am sure, will be hysteric and close at calling the Army. Meanwhile, I'm going to meet Declan and tell him about us. "

"Us?" echoed Ste, his voice almost a whisper, as the tension quickly slipped away from his shoulders.

Brendan almost erased the already inconsistent distance between them. "Would you like an 'us'?".

Suddenly he pulled away from him, pretending looked thoughtful. "You know, we'll become the scandal of the century. I can't wait".

"Shut up!" said Ste, smiling. And finally he planted a passionate kiss on his lips.

Amy had always failed to be discreet about Ste's business. Compared to her, the best Interpol detective was the worst beginner. The boy had just returned home and was already suffering from the hardest grade.

"It's noon," she declared, while she was sniffing the air around him. "You've a scent that isn't yours." Suddenly she screamed in excitement and began to excitedly clapping like a five years girl. "It's a hickey what I'm seeing?"

Ste grumbled to shut her mouth and turned to the fridge to take the juice.

"What's his name?" Amy asked him at one point, as he was showing his back and drinking from the bottle apparently satisfied.

Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and, without turning, said: "What makes you think I asked his name?"

Amy clung to his shoulders, forcing him to make a complete turn, in order to look at him straight in his eye.

"'Cause I know ya. You wouldn't have been gone all night, till now, with a random, "she said solemnly. "Last time it happened with ... Brendan. "

The girl had seemed to almost threw up the name, and pretended to suppress a retch.

Ste's intimidated look made her open her eyes wide open.

"No," she snapped suddenly. "No, no, no! Ste, tell me that's not what I'm thinking! "

Living extremely close to your best friend, who was once your partner as well, had the double disadvantage of being constantly under the examination of two different lenses: when one of them failed, the other one worked.

Ste breathed some faint groan as a response.

"I don't believe it," cried Amy, her voice shrill.

"It's different this time! 'he hastened to shield himself.

"Yeah, right!" She quipped, stiffly. "How many times I've heard that?"

"All happened so ... casually. It was beautiful, Ames. He told me he will talk to his son. " He nodded vigorously to give force to his words. "We'll be a proper couple this time."

"But Ste ,.." she moaned. "How could you forget everything he has done to you?"

Ste's look became very serious. "I've hurt him, too, though." He anchored to her shoulders, trying to reassure her with his eyes, but mainly to reassure himself. "Ames, please. I'm feeling something I haven't felt in ages. Do ya want to try to be happy ... for me? Yeah? "

"I ... I just fear that you'll suffer again, Ste "she said with a faint voice.

He shook his head vigorously. "It won't happen. I can feel it. "

The door bell rang almost simultaneously, and startled them both. Ste gave a beaming smile to Amy, before rushing to open the door.

Declan's look, unexpectedly appeared in the doorway, was a mixture of anger and disappointment. Ste's smile froze on his lips, lips that instantly turned in a puzzled frown.

"I thought you were my friend," he heard him say almost in tears.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here I am, again! I'm positively stunned by the way the show is going, that I don't think my fanfic can live up to it. Still, I hope you'll like it. Thanks a lot for your feedback! Keep 'em going ^^**

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**Chapter 5**

"Hey!"

Ste smiled awkwardly to the boy he had met just a few nights before in that same place and who was very likely still awaiting for his call.

"What can I get ya?"

"A beer, thanks".

The guy lightly blew on his glass to ward off a bit of foam, then began to sip his drink, without stopping to look at him askance. And Ste could not help himself but feel his gaze slipping on him, as if it were a caress.

"Listen, Roger ... I "

"Never mind," interrupted the young man calmly. "I understand when I've been set aside."

"But you haven't been set aside. Just... "

The other man gave him a piercing look, highlighted by a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Okay," Ste replied correcting himself "I had no intention of setting you aside, but something happened... you know... an old story still pending" he specified.

"The infamous ex" declared the young man, solemnly.

Ste nodded with a nervous giggle.

Roger finished his beer in one gulp, wiping his lips with his thumb; a slow and casual move that Ste found very sensual.

"Well," he muttered. "I'm sorry, I really am. But if you're happy, as they say, I'm happy for you... I guess."

Ste nodded, with a content smile, now. "Thanks."

Then he saw him move away towards the sofa where his friends were gathered.

_Happy._  
While he was absently filling two glasses with J & B for two customers, Ste could not help himself but wonder if he really was.

After all, Brendan had been avoiding him for a couple of days now - he did not believe his excuses, not even for a second - and so he was completely unaware of what had happened between him and Declan. And the latter, apart from an insult and a couple of meaningless phrases, had not been more exhaustive than his own father. After his outburst, two days ago, Declan had left his flat in a hurry, slamming the door on his way out, and since then Ste hadn't been able to contact him.  
In short, between father and son, he was more confused than ever and wasn't capable to exactly figure out where the core of the problem was.

The certain thing was that over the years he had learned not to bypass his problems, whatever the face with which they arrived, and when he saw Rhys, who was returning to supply the fridge with some beer, he seized the moment.

"Can you replace me for a minute, please?" He asked. And as soon as Rhys nodded he went toward the office door, entering without knocking.

The man stared at him frowning, imperceptibly raising his eyes from his papers .

"This isn't a good timing, Stephen!"

Ste slided, with a flick of his wrist, the latch behind the door, closing it.

"Here! Now it is. "  
Brendan looked in his direction, his curled lips and the eyes lost in his forehead, as if he wanted to eagerly weight Ste's gesture and words.

He got up and joined him, first with slow steps, then suddenly he pushed him against the wall behind and grabbed the edge of his shirt, bringing to glue their lips. Ste interposed a finger between them.

"I didn't came for this, but to ask you how it went with Declan. Not very well, I bet. "

Brendan groaned and reluctantly released the grip on his shirt.

"He just had to digest that he has a gay dad" he answer. "How do you think he would have reacted knowing that dad's boyfriend is the bartender who moreover could almost be his kid's playmate?"

"What's the point then?" asked Ste, frowning.

"The point is ..." he stopped, nervously rubbing his forehead, "Come on, Stephen! You are a father too. What should I do? Go against him? Say 'I don't care what you think, I can fuck anyone I want; kisses, hugs and thank you very much?"  
"Yeah" Ste nodded vigorously. "You've answered yourself. Declan is no longer a child. He must understand! "He added, placing a fierce emphasis on that 'must' which at that moment he felt like the only solution to all of his problems.

Brendan chuckled in disbelief, and shortly after his eyes became cold and hard like ice. "Exactly! Declan is no longer a child. Children can be handled, Stephen, tricked, but when they grow up they start to see you as you really are. They judge you."  
Ste shook his head, flashing a crooked smile. "You'll never change. We don't need anyone's approval. "

"Exactly," he agreed, relieved. "Why worry about it now. I've decided! "

Ste thinned his eyes, staring at him, puzzled. "You? Decided? When?"

"Let's leave everything this way. Let's wait for Declan come back to his ma and ... "

"What?" Ste raised his voice too much. "A whole summer pretending to avoid us. Again?"

"Just this time. I promise. "  
"In this moment I cease to believe all of your promises" began Ste with a firm and almost colorless tone. "I'm tired!" He waited for Brendan to move to let him pass, then he turned and put his fingers on the latch. "You know what I will do, instead? I'll talk to Declan, me. We were in contact during the last months. We often call each other on the phone and you know that? We get along more than you could ever imag-"

Ste found himself trapped again instantly, while his head beat violently against the wall, Brendan's hand clawed at his shirt, this time with no other purpose but to intimidate him, and the other hand seized his face with a steely grip.

"Behind my back!" He growled, gripping his face as if he wanted it to break.  
Ste wasn't able to utter a word, neither a groan, but he felt tears fill his eyes, his heart pounding in his ears.

This wasn't really happening, he thought. It couldn't happen again.

Brendan left Ste's face with almost the same brutality he had gripped it with, and Ste felt an intense tingling where the blood was flowing back.

"Get out!" the man barked.

Ste obeyed, rushing to open the door and slip out of the office; his heart was deafening and the music hit him with the force of a hurricane.

It was strange that he could still feel Brendan's presence behind him, his voice calling after him with a tone akin to despair. But Ste was already beyond his reach.

People danced, had fun, while he still felt the fire on his face and death in his heart.  
His footsteps stopped, almost unconsciously, in front of a group of boys and girls who were chatting, perched on the sofa behind the railing, drinks in their hand. Roger was one of them and saw Ste only when he was standing in front of him, a firmness in his eyes eyes that he hadn't had the possibility to know yet. Ste clung to his shoulders, pulling him towards himself, and kissed him.

After the first moments of confusion, the young man got up on his own feet in disbelief, staring into Ste's burning eyes. Then he smiled and kissed him back.

Ste broke the kiss and took his hand, inviting him to follow him. He didn't care about turning around to check Brendan's look, deadly shocked, following him as half the club pointed at him and Roger.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you all for your nice reviews**

**Thanks to Hannival who is always nice and helpful, and thanks to Stendan who have allowed all this.**

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**Chapter 6**

**XOX**

**.**

**.**

"You've got any plans for today?"

Ste narrowed his eyes, pretending to think carefully.

"Get a job?" he answered.

Roger raised his eyebrows, puzzled.

"Last night... I suddenly left before finishing my shift, " explained Ste, letting his shoulders drop on the bed. "I guess my boss didn't appreciate it... and I've got no intention of finding it out. "

Roger stroked Ste's face with a finger, gently, but couldn't avoid to snatch him a little moan. "These weren't there when I arrived at the club, last night," he said, pointing to the bruises on the sides of his face.

Ste huffed a sigh, lowering his gaze. "I don't want to talk about it."  
"I did hear a weird story about a bartender of ChezChez's and its owner... But I guess I didn't want to believe it."

Ste looked up and stared at him with a determination. "Just... don't talk about it, yeah?"

Roger nodded. "As you wish" he agreed. "Then I should rephrase my former question: Would you like to have dinner with me? I know a lovely cosy place out of town. There are rooms, too ... " then he stopped. "Not that I expect you to... but if you want ... "

"Okay," he agreed. "I guess that's a good idea."

Roger beamed and leaned over to kiss him.

"You won't regret it," he whispered.

Ste's lips trembled a bit when he tried to respond to that smile and that kiss.

The door suddenly opened and a wren-haired blonde dived on the bed, followed by her mother's frantic reproaches.  
"Leah! How many times have I told you not to get in ... "

Amy suddenly fell silent, petrified in front of that scene. She had never walked on Ste in bed with someone, and her mind quickly registered the fact that if that someone wasn't Brendan it only meant more troubles.

"Sorry," she chirped, grabbing her little girl. "And... bye" she said, before walking away with an embarrassed smile, closing the door behind her back.

"Your sister?" Roger asked, frowning.

Ste sighed deeply. "Do you have time?"

.

.

.

Cheryl put the phone on the snack table, staring at her own brother as if she was checking a second head between his shoulders.

Brendan suddenly stopped slaughtering his toast with butter and jam, and replied with a confused frown.

"It was Ste" she said quietly. "He told me to tell you to find another bartender from now on."

Her brother bit an half of the toast and let out a grunt with less grace than usual.

"I can't believe it!" Cheryl's face turned red in a blink. "He was in your bed only three days ago, and he's out of the club today?" She snapped.

"These things can happen sometimes," Brendan replied with his usual, impassive gaze.

"Not sometimes Brendan, _always_ when you're concerned" Cheryl's look was half pitiful and half angry.

"At least tell me why, Brendan. Why do the things between the two of you always have to end like this?"

The man ushered in his mouth the other half of the toast, but he had a look of someone who had just eaten a handful of nails.

"I hate people who plot behind my back."

Cheryl frowned, puzzled.

"Ask your nephew."  
"Declan? What's going on with Declan? " She asked in a shrilled voice.

Brendan wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up from the snack table without another word, opting for a quick escape to the front door.

"On the other hand... I think Stephen has found what he always dreamed of: tall, blonde ... Hefty. Nothing to do with me."

Cheryl slammed her eyelids in disbelief. "Ste?"

"See ye," concluded her brother before going out.

At the sound of the closing door , Declan appeared at the top of the stairs. He reached the kitchen in silence and his aunt greeted him with a bright smile.

"Sit down, sweetheart. Lunch will be ready in a minute. "

"You two spoke about Ste? What's up? "Inquired the boy, as he sat on the stool.

Cheryl shook her head, a hint of a smile not very suitable to her face at that moment. "Nothing, honey. Work stuff"

"Dad talked about a blond guy. He's Ste's new boyfriend? "

The woman stared at him, puzzled. Then she let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a howl.  
"Maybe this is Ste's business, don't you think?" trilled his aunt, smiling more and more bogus.

Declan's face darkened and he abandoned, with a disgusted grimace, the bread smeared with jam after pulling it to his lips. He abruptly rose from his chair and, in front of the woman's astonished gaze he left the house in the same way his father had done, a few minutes before. Unlike him, however, Declan was sure about his goal from the start.

He hadn't talked to Ste in the past three days, still digesting what his eyes had been forced to see and his ears to hear. It was still hard to think clearly, as images of Ste and his father, glued by their hips, ended up overlapping on his desperate wish for it to be only a nightmare. Moreover it was the last thing he would have expected, not after his father had sworn that their story was dead and gone, not after Ste told him that he wouldn't have returned with him for anything. Both had lied to him.

But he was certain that something had happened in the meantime. He could feel it shuddering in his own heart, and in his heart he hoped it was just what he wanted.

While he was getting ready to knock on Ste's door, his mind began suggesting him all the things that he wanted to tell Ste, everything that he hadn't been able to reveal him during the last six months, when he had done nothing but think about him.

Ste seemed rather surprised to see him.  
"Sorry" Said Declan, before his courage disappeared. " I was a total arsehole a few days ago. I -"

At that point, the thousands words that still echoed in his head were sucked by a invisible vacuum cleaner, as his eye fell on the man suddenly appeared behind Ste.

_Tall, blond, fit..._

Again, Declan recognized that feeling of illness in his stomach from a few nights ago, when he had seen them talking at ChezChez's. Now that feeling seemed to have tripled.

_What the fuck was he doing here? And at this time of the morning?_

The only positive note was that the man was about to leave.

"Tonight, then?" he heard him say softly.

"Let's just say that I'll give ya a call, okay?" replied Ste.

The blondie, clearly disappointed, nodded, then turned towards the exit and finally disappeared from his sight with the bitter knowledge that Ste wouldn't call him anymore.

Declan's stomach ceased to twitch and he began to breathe freely.

Ste closed the door, resting his fingers on the handle and giving him his back for longer than necessary, then spun around; the grim expression of his eyes caused unpleasant shivers down Declan's spine.

"Ya shouldn't be 'ere," said Ste, deadly.  
Then he went to the stove and nervously grabbed the jug pouring some tea in a cup and handed it to him. Declan shook his head vehemently. Even if he'd took just a sip of it in that moment he would have puked. Ste withdrew his arm and began to sip the tea, wistfully.

"I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to know what happened with my father. Who was that?" piped the younger, frowning.

Ste snorted, then started biting his lower lip.

"I think this is none of your business," he replied icely.

"I thought we were friends," said Declan with a voice cracked and a lamp tighter and tigher in his throat.

"Me too" said Ste, slamming the empty cup beside the stove.

Declan winced. "Ste... I"

"It's over. For good. Are ya happy now? You'll get your daddy all for ya. I don't want to have anything to do with him, anymore. And it's better that you don't have anything to do with me as well".  
The boy began shaking his head, his eyes gradually wetter and in disbelief.

"I... I didn't want this, "he groaned.

"Plus, I'm jobless, and looking for one is the only thing I want to think of in this moment. " He turned his back, propping his arms on the sink. "So, go away, please."

His eyes had just fell casually on the window in front of him when Brendan's unmistakable form appeared behind the curtains.

"Crap!" he hissed.

He abruptly turned and began pushing Declan towards the end of the corridor. "In my room. Quick!"

Declan instantly obeyed, while Ste silently approached the front door. Brendan knocked, but he had no intention of letting him in.

"Stephen," he heard him whisper behind the door that Ste had stretched his back against, holding his own breath.  
"Stephen" he repeated. "Open the door, please. I know ye're inside. We need to talk. "

The young man felt his heart kicking furiously in his chest, so he bit his lips trying to find the force to ignore it, after Brendan's voice.

"Okay, I'll talk anyway". After a few seconds of absolute silence he resumed. "I'm sorry," replied a voice choked on the other side. "I want to erase everything that happened, I would tell ye that it didn't mean anything, but I can't. Please, Stephen, let me come in. Only with ye at my side I can become a better person. "

Ste pursed lips stronger, his throat aching by the effort to not bawl like one of his children.

"I love you, Stephen. I promise I won't raise a finger on ye. Never again. I promise. Let's forget everything and just... let's start again. Stephen... please. "

Ste took a deep breath, turned quickly and threw open the door.  
"Damn, Brendan," he cried, finding him a few inches from his nose. "Can't you understand that I no longer believe in all your..."

His breath suddenly failed him to continue. Brendan was still in front of him and tears filled his eyes.

"Stephen ..." croaked the man, stretching his arm towards him, hesitantly. Apart from that, he hadn't moved a inch, waiting for Ste did the next move.

Ste stared at his hand indefinitely, soft like beggar's, and again his wet eyes, a blue almost unreal. Then he shook his head, incapable to say anything, grabbed his hand and threw his own arms around him. Brendan pressed him to his chest, arms wrapped tightly behind his back, his face buried in the crook of his neck. Then, almost in synchrony, both of them broke that bond which tasted like desperation, looking at each other in silence. Brendan quickly dried his eyes with his palms, sniffling, with a smile somewhere between embarrassment and relief. Finally, he put his hands on the sides of Ste's face and began to fondle his cheekbones, hesitating on the area below where the mark left by his fingers had emerged like a faded tattoo, but still retaining the whole harshness of a warning.  
"Sorry," he croaked, then went up to his face and his lips began to brush against all those signs.

Ste closed his eyes for a moment, savoring warmth of his mouth and softness of his moustache. Finally, he opened his eyes and tied his hands behind his neck, pulling him into a feverish kiss.

Brendan closed the door with his foot and began to push him forward towards the end of the corridor. Only when they reached the bedroom, Ste suddenly remembered about Declan.

"Wait," he gasped, stopping Brendan's hands, which were about to take off his shirt. "I have to tell you something first."  
The man looked startled for a moment, then hurried to down the handle and open the door. "Later, Stephen. We have all the time to talk later. "

After entering the room, Brendan pulled Ste against his body that was burning with desire. Ste closed his eyes reflexively, waiting for a reaction that never came.

"Stephen?"

At Brendan's call, Ste opened his eyes, looking around puzzled. Apart from them, among those four walls, there was no one else.

_You feel so lonely and ragged _

_You lay here broken and naked _

_My love is _

_Just waiting _

_To clothe you in crimson roses _


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you very much for reading and for your lovely reviews. I hope you like this even if brief.**

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**Chapter 7**

**xHOx**

**.**

**.**

He found himself on the bed almost without realizing it. Brendan was lying on top of him.

But Ste's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't risk having sex while someone was spying on them, especially if that someone was Brendan's son.

So, he slipped from under Brendan's body, as graceful as he could, and tried to look under the bed: Declan seemed to have disappeared, though. Only when his eyes fell on the open window, Ste realized that the boy had escaped, probably a few moments before they got in the room. Almost immediately he felt Brendan's chest adhering to his back and a mustache tickling his ear, his tongue and his teeth tormenting him.

"Mmm ... do ye prefer this way?" he said voluptuous. "I agree with ye."

Ste instead turned swiftly, staring him with a mortified expression.

"Brendan ... I have to tell ya something... "

The man stopped him with a kiss. "I know," he said in a velvet voice.

Ste's eyes widened in surprise.

"I don't care... just... just don't do it ever again - another kiss - Never. I'll be so good that I'll make you forget him."

Ste understood that Brendan was talking about Roger; the unmade bed and the sheets still smelling of sex with another guy just a few hours before.

He wished not to have done it. He shouldn't have had.

He intensely kissed Brendan again; their nimble fingers teared the clothes off each other in a few seconds; their hot bodies connected. And before he let him in, before his brain clouded, before everything, Ste whispered in his ear: "I've already forgotten him."

.

.

.

Later, Brendan came back to his flat, humming happily with a smile all teeth in front of his sister's astonished gaze. Puzzled, the woman began to watch every single movement of his, that looked like he was almost dancing, while he prepared a sandwich with peanut butter, ham, eggs and all the good food he had been able to find in the fridge.

"Someone had sex" chirped the woman with a curved eyebrow.

Brendan continued to happily munch that wonky tower of food.

"Did you fix things up with Ste?" she asked cautiously.

Brendan gave another bite to his sandwich, bellowing for satisfaction.

Cheryl couldn't help smiling openly. By now, whatever was the relationship Ste and her brother had continued to carry on, despite everything, she realized she should just accept it, not overfilling her head with a thousand philosophical questions.

"At this point, I think it's needless to ask you if you saw Declan".

Brendan threw a darting frown at her, detaching from his ultra-stuffed sandwich.

"He didn't come back for lunch, not answering to my calls," she informed him, and her tone became suddenly serious. "Did he send you any text?"

Brendan swallowed up his last piece of sandwich, suddenly turned into a clot of sawdust, and grabbed the phone from his shirt pocket. He checked the messages and found none of his son, so he selected Declan's number and began to call him: the user could not be reached or had the phone switched off.

He turned to his sister, looking worried and irritated at the same time.

"That boy will make me mad," he snapped, spraying bread crumbs at every word. "I should give him an epical punishment," he added.

"Do you want to send him back home again?"

Brendan shook his head. "I'm thinkin' of something else. I'm going to be a father, Chez. I'm not going to give up, this time".

Cheryl nodded, pleased. "Then I guess you should talk to him as soon as possible. Have you noticed that he's pretty quiet lately? He's avoiding both of us. This morning he didn't even had breakfast and left home as if he had been shot in the ass. "

Brendan looked her quizzically.

"He asked me what had happened with Ste. He didn't even give me time to come up with a decent story," continued his sister.

Brendan dropped his sandwich on the plate with an irritated gesture, spreading slices of tomato and egg yolk all around.

"He can't tolerate that me and Stephen are together. But this time I'm not going to give up" he said with a passionate and determined look.

"In fact you don't have to" agreed his sister, nodding with a smile. "Declan will get used to it". Then, frowning thoughtfully, she added: "It's weird. I thought he liked Ste. "

"Obviously he doesn't like the fact that he sleeps with his dad" he concluded, as he tried to resettle his lunch into a more convincing form.

"To be honest, that's a thing I prefer to ignore myself".

A few rambles around the village and a couple of ignored calls later, Declan came back home only in the late afternoon, pressed by his stomach that had remained empty for almost all day long. The house seemed empty too, so, not caring too much, he walked briskly over to the fridge where he began to greedily drink a juice straightly from its wrapping. Brendan materialized quietly behind him, where he looked at him askance for long seconds.

"Oi!" he barked suddenly.

Declan winced, spitting juice all over the floor and on his own clothing.

When he turned, his father's face was a mask on fire.

"I'm gonna go to my room," said the boy brusquely, trying to avoid him and earn the stairway leading upstairs.

Brendan blocked his sprint with a light fingers pressure against his shoulder.

"You're really thinking that you can get away with it, ain't ye?" said the man with a relentless tone. "Have ye got the slightest idea of how much we were worried about ye, me and Chez?"

"I thought you were working," was his seraphic reply.

Brendan snorted a half laugh."Don't think this is gonna end like the last time"

Declan folded his arms on his chest and began looking at him with an unfamiliar gaze of defiance. "What are you gonna do then? Make me swim all the way back to Belfast?"

Brendan snorted an half grin, rubbing neurotically his forehead for a few seconds. "No way," he said, widening his grin in a wicked smile. "We'll go to London."

"London?" Declan asked, frowning.

Brendan nodded with a slight bending of his head. "We will. You. Stephen. Buckingham Palace and the 9 and 3/4 platform" he reeled off, vaguely gesturing with his hands and bursting a neurotic chuckle.

That was the time for Declan to smile cheekily. "Forget it!"

Brendan totally ignored him. "Tomorrow. Seven o'clock. Don't bring too much luggage." He added, telegraphic.

A moment later he took the direction of the door, heading towards the club.

.

.

.

Ste was very surprised by Brendan's proposal, but excited at the same time. Amy was forced to beg for his attention many times during the evening, when, in an attempt to talk to him or ask him to help her in the kitchen, she found him staring into space, a stupid smile on his lips and his head already hundreds of miles from there. During the night, then, he was unable to sleep, so he found himself more than half an hour in advance on the place where they had decided to meet.

"I hope it's not another disappointment," he murmured to himself, exactly remembering one year ago, when Brendan had promised a holiday, along with their respective children to Disneyland. Promise broken at supersonic speed in a moment.

He began to play with his fingers, nervously eyeing the trolley at his feet and wondering if it was a good idea to take half his wardrobe with him.

Seven o'clock passed and not even Brendan's shadow appeared. After about ten minutes, he was tempted to call him, but the terror of receiving no answer or, worse yet, a negative answer, stopped him.

After an hour spent waiting on the wall nearby his flat, Ste grabbed his trolley to get back ruefully in. Suddenly, behind him, the fury of a horn sounded and the screeching of brakes made him do an acrobatic leap from the road to the sidewalk. Brendan breathlessly came out of the car.

"Sorry, I'm late," he said sharply, grabbing Ste's trolley and trowing it gracelessly in the trunk. Then he opened the door and waited that Ste had seated, before closing it with more force than necessary. Finally he stationed himself at the wheel and began to tighten it, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling with the same ferocity.

"Let's go!" He said, looking straight ahead, about to turn the key.

"Brendan?" hesitated Ste, slightly squeezing his arm. "What happened?"

The man made several deep breaths again, then finally his gaze fell on Ste.

"Children shouldn't turn to teenagers but go straight to college" he reeled off, red-faced.

Ste kept a giggle back. His kids were little adorable children yet, but he self had left that issue fair recently, so he couldn't be more agree with him.

"Declan?" he asked, rhetorically.

"Yeah! Declan! " Brendan declared, as his fury was slowly deflating. "I couldn't pack him and push him into the trunk. I was going to knock the bathroom's door down when he locked himself inside. Cheryl convinced me not to do it. "

Another deep breath. Ste rubbed his arm affectionately.

"Never mind," he said with a smile that included understanding and profuse bitterness. "I had already thought that the trip could have gone wrong. We'll try again when Declan will be more reasonable."

Having said that, he open the door for getting down. Brendan stopped him instantly.

"I'm not going to let a grumpy, stroppy, spoiled teenager walk all over me," said the man convinced. "We'll do this by ourselves. And for fuck's sake, Stephen, we're gonna enjoy it!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi! This time the chapter is a bit fluffy, the beginning at least. I hope you enjoy it. Thank everyone for reading and reviewing, It means a lot to me. XX  
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**Chapter 8**

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**xxHOxx**

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The highway exit for London was next. Ste used to love traveling by car and the last few hours he had been seated side by side with Brendan - he was absolutely sure – had been the most enjoyable since they met two years ago. Really.

If anything, because he had spent most of the time chatting with Brendan, finding out things about him he couldn't even imagine. For example that he was a jazz and a symphonic music fan, or that as a boy he used to make jokes that surprisingly had nothing to do with fights and cheating. Listening to his incredible adventures, Ste found himself laughing like he had never done in his life.

Suddenly, while he was drying his own tears at the corners of his eyes, after a particularly long laughter, Brendan stopped the car on the emergency pitch, and got out in front of Ste's interdict eyes, who cut his laughing off immediately.

"What's wrong?" He asked cautiously.

Brendan imperceptibly shook his head, a crooked smile under his tache.

"Take my seat" He said, forcing him to slide on the driver side.

Ste stiffened.

"Brendan ... I haven't got a license, you know that."

The man shrugged his own shoulders nonchalantly. He was serious.

"Brendan," he tried again, his face turning a bit purple. "The last time I drove a car, after stealing it, I had an accident."

That wasn't so tragic as an adventure, but it was enough for the judge who threw him in a reformatory for six months. Since then he had been very careful not to stay too close to anything that had the vague shape of a wheel.

"Exciting" commented Brendan at half an inch from his face.

"I don't think I can do this" resumed Ste, shaking his own head hard.

Then Brendan planted a kiss on his lips, so impetuous that he left him with no air for long seconds. "Don't worry! You can learn anything quickly" he concluded, darting mischievously eyebrows on his forehead.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Up to the crossroads" he concluded, succinctly, as he closed the lifebelt with a clack .

Ste replied with a nervous laugh, throwing a puzzled look on the dashboard and then another one, more terrified, over the cars that overpassed them, flashing and vanishing toward a sultry horizon.

At first, he made the car turn off a couple of times, but on the third try Brendan's velvety voice reassured him so much that he felt like he had done nothing else but this in his life.

"Why haven't you got a license yet?" asked the man, relaxed on his seat, his feet against the dashboard and his eyes hidden behind dark glasses; face up.

Ste winced. Brendan had been silent an half an hour, so Ste reckoned he was asleep.

He took ages to respond, too focused on the road, fearing to lose the signal announcing the crossroads.

"Because of the accident," he said later. "The judgment stated that I couldn't get one before turning twenty. Then, when the time came, I had something else on my mind "

"For example?"

"For example... trying to be a good father ... keeping myself out of trouble ... "

Meanwhile, a road sign, over their heads, pointed out that it was just a couple of miles yet to the crossroads. Ste started slowing down.

"Anyway, I can't afford a car," he added. "And so ..."

"It's a shame" finished Brendan, starting to looking at him thoughtfully.

Then he unfastened his own lifebelt.

Brendan started stroking Ste's leg, causing him to squeeze the steering wheel so hard that his own fingers became livid.

"What are you doing?" Ste asked, scared.

Brendan's hand went to his crotch and Ste began to sweat.

"Don't do it, Bren. Please" he begged.

"Eyes on the road!" Brendan whispered, a moment before kissing Ste's neck and taking his lobe between his teeth; meanwhile his fingers were already unbuttoning Ste's jeans.

Ste swallowed his own saliva. It was the most exciting and yet dangerous thing he had ever done, but perhaps nothing was going to happen anyway because he didn't like the danger, not anymore. However, when Brendan grabbed his erection, his cock answered against his will. Brendan always turned him on, regardless if they were in bed, in a back room or at 100 miles an hour on the highway.

"You're crazy" gasped Ste, trying not to close his eyes, while his brain was boiling trying to find a way to tear Brendan's clothes off, stop the car, and fuck each other into oblivion. Not in this order, though.

In the meantime Brendan's hand had started to stroke him faster and Ste knew his orgasm was close.

"I can't... do it. I can't... please stop".

Brendan's breathing was heavy, warm, more and more exciting for Ste, until he saw Brendan touching himself, and at this point his brain was completely gone.

"Oh... my..."

He was gonna die, he knew it, and he was never gonna forgive Brendan. In a furious flash he saw Amy and their kids crying, Brendan took him in his mouth and an emergency stop to his left caught his eye. Without even knowing what needed to be done, he swerved suddenly, stopping abruptly a few inches from a emergency column. During the backlash Brendan's glasses jumped off, as Ste's cum spurted violently somewhere in front of him.

They were still alive.

Maybe.

A little bit.

"I think we can declare the experiment concluded," Brendan gasped painfully, while recovering his glasses from the dashboard, his teeth clenched and his face ashen.

"Mmm, I agree" said Ste, conspicuously nodding and trying not to vomit his heart that was stuck in his throat.

"It was nice, though" admitted Ste with a little smile, as his heart started to beat more normally.

"Nice?" Brendan was scandalized. "Jesus, Stephen! You were the most exciting thing that I saw sitting there in the last two years."

Ste looked disappointed. "Only two years?"

"I only bought this car two years ago."

Ste smiled satisfied, reclining his head back, blissfully.

"How about... returning the favor?" Brendan said suddenly, showing at him his erection still trapped in his own jeans. Ste grinned and licked his own lips.

"As you wish".

**xxHOxx**

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Perhaps it was the tension of those moments, or perhaps simply because he had skipped breakfast that morning, Ste's stomach started grumbling at sight of a McDonald's, which was located near the garage where the car had been parked.

Brendan wrinkled his nose and, seizing him by an arm, tried to push him towards a restaurant with four large windows and a huge sign on the opposite side of the road. Ste imagined it was one of those places where even the tap water had its honor place on drinks menu, among vintage wines and super cocktails. Although that weekend had been organized in a few hours, he had no intention to let Brendan pay dinner for him, as well as the hotel.

"You can eat there, if you want. I'm eating here " he concluded with determination, freeing himself from his grip and walking in the direction of the fast food.

Brendan exhaled a sound that resembled an exasperated grunt, then sighed deeply and followed him.

The place was packed of children and their parents, balloons firmly tight in one hand and the latest gadget of the month in the other one. Brendan swallowed, almost without chewing, a large format of something that vaguely looked like a hamburger; the chips were decent, though.

Then it happened. And Ste felt the same unpleasant shiver down his spine like the times before.

Ste casually rested his own hand on his, in a gesture that apparently meant queer in capital letters. Once again, like the first time, Brendan slid his hand on his as if it burned and got up with the excuse of the toilet.

Ste saw him walking away, swallowing a bitter-tasting lump in his throat, and fearing that he would do a runner even this time, through the bathroom's window. However, contrary to his expectations, Brendan returned after a few minutes, but from that moment on he was careful not to stay too close to him, and by the end of the lunch they looked like two strangers who had met there by chance.

Ste's feelings, at that point, turned in a burning frustration, something he thought he would never feel again because of Brendan, after giving him this last chance, one of many.

Ste had never been in London before, but Brendan's detached behavior on the following hours dispelled his all excitement, making him wonder constantly how their lives would have been if he had got a boyfriend less obsessed by prejudices, and that he didn't love solving their all troubles with a punch or a fuck. Not very Brendan, then.

The museum they had visited in the afternoon didn't interest him as he expected, and the guide's voice anon became an annoying hum in his ears.

Finally, after wandering through half the town and raided at least thirty shops, which exposed signs of seasonal sales, they went back to the hotel for resting, and when Ste saw two chambers waiting for them instead of a single one, like he had imagined before that trip started, he felt ice flow in his veins.

Ste picked one of two chambers without hesitation, locking himself inside, as if he wanted to escape Brendan. He had practically slammed the door in his face, to avoid any comments on a situation not very different from the many others they had lived at the beginning of their relationship, or whatever that was. He started unpacking the trolley with a different mood to how he had prepared it that morning and, after a long shower, plopped down onto the bed, staring sadly at the decorations of the ceiling.

Suddenly, he heard a soft sound coming from the left side of the room.

Only at that moment Ste realized that was another door in the room. Brendan had booked two adjoining chambers. The door was opened, creaking slowly like in the worst horror movie, and at the same moment he turned away, closing his eyes and pretending to sleep.

Later, as he felt a soft thud on the mattress and Brendan's warm breath grew closer to his ear, he couldn't help feeling his heart beat wildly and his skin shivered; yet he continued unabated to fake a deep sleep. On other occasions he would have faced Brendan, claiming his reasons, but he felt like he didn't have enough energy to do that now. As soon as he heard Brendan walk away, damping behind the next door, Ste released a broad sigh, finding out that he had been holding his breath all that time. Almost immediately a few tears slipped from his own eyes, while the echo of their laughter on the motorway became more and more distant and faded.


	9. Chapter 9

******Since now I've got a new Beta reader/editor, GeminiLove30, a lovely American girl who already helped me for some fics about AWZ. Hannival is too busy with her school and t**his fic is taking longer than expected, currently it's at 15th chapter in italian. I hope you will keep to follow it until the end. Thanks for your comments, and continue to let me know what you think. I know that the show is more interesting now, but I care very much for your thoughts about my fic, so please review.

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**Chapter 9**

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**xHOx**

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Finally, the weariness of a sleepless night got the upper hand, and Ste fell asleep for real, but his rest was partially neutralized by nightmares all orbiting around a single subject: he and Brendan would never be a couple like everyone else, and thus he would never be happy because it seemed impossible that he could ever feel for someone else all that Brendan made him feel.

In the middle of one of those bad, very realistic dreams, Ste got worked up, moaning and talking incoherently. There was total darkness around him and he was feeling a bitter coldness down to his bones; his feet and hands stumbling up the rungs of a ladder to which he could see no end. Suddenly someone grabbed his hand, whispering his name, and there was only one person in the world that used to do it that way. But he wasn't able to answer. While asleep he was well aware of dreaming, and so he tried to open his eyes, to escape the coldness and darkness which surrounded him.

"Stephen," he heard again.

As he opened wide his eyes, he noticed he was no longer alone, Brendan was lying beside him holding his hand and stroking his head.

"Bad dream?" he asked warmly.

Ste thought he had nodded or answered yes, but he found out that no sound had come from his mouth; it was so dry and, by contrast, his back was sweat-soaked.

"This is what happens after an overdose on suspect food," Brendan said with a half smile. Then he kissed his lips.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Ste croaked as he freed himself from Brendan's arms; his throat was burning.

"Good idea," said Brendan, starting to undress.

"Alone," said Ste forcefully. His voice sounded much better this time and it had the desired effect.

Brendan sighed, afflicted, – the sigh being immediately imitated by Ste who remained motionless at his side – and then dropped to back onto the bed, staring glumly at the ceiling again. The time had come for talking.

"Stephen," Brendan began, "I'm really trying to change, but there are things that - I can't..."

Ste turned on his side, and Brendan did the same, reaching up to stroke Ste's face with his fingers.

For a moment, all Ste could feel was bitterness. But it soon began melting into something undefined; he couldn't wait to see what shape it would take at the end.

"I know you'd like to walk down the street like any other couple, maybe holding hands, hugged up, showing everyone around us what a real kiss means... but that isn't me."

Ste opened his mouth to argue, but Brendan shushed him with a finger on his lips.

"I'm not that kind of person, Stephen. I never will be."

Ste's face clouded. Brendan was telling him sincerely, maybe for the first time in his life, that they would never be like a normal couple. Just like in his dream.

"A part of me keeps wanting to not deal with this, I'm not yet ready to live in an uninhibited way. But don't get me wrong, I've no intention of turning back and hiding what I am. However...it's hard for me, Stephen. I'm not the kind of guy that likes to show off his feelings. I deem that as a private thing."

"Are you ashamed of me?" asked Ste in a thin voice. His throat was dry again.

"I'm not," said Brendan quickly, brushing Ste's lips with his thumb. "I'm talking about love, Stephen. I don't like some stranger seeing what I feel for you. It's so intimate and should concern only the two of us. But I could never be ashamed of ye. Seriously... you're the best thing that could happen to me."

Ste felt a sudden warmth spread across his cheeks. He still didn't know how to take this new Brendan and his answer; but the feelings that had nested in his chest made it feel like the most extraordinary thing he could ever hear.

"That's why you've booked two chambers instead of one?"

Brendan frowned, puzzled. He took in the whole room at a glance. "This one was supposed to be for Declan. It was too late to cancel the booking. Plus, I thought you wanted to stay a while alone first. I came to you, but you were already sleeping... or so it had appeared to me."

Ste was speechless. Was it possible all that Brendan had said was flawless? And was he making up problems needlessly?

The only thing he could do was nod and lie down on Brendan's chest, quietly breathing in his smell. Brendan lifted Ste's chin so he could look into his eyes. "Can we take that famous shower now?" he asked with a wry smile, before imprisoning Ste's lips with his own.

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xHOx

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_G.A.Y. is the biggest gay and lesbian club in London. Located in central London, G.A.Y. has a re-amputation... repu- reputation..._

Brendan grabbed the brochure from Ste's hands with a snap, before sending it flying over the foot of the bed.

"Save your brain," he said. "We ain't going there."

"Hey!" protested Ste loudly, "I'm not going to stay locked in the hotel all weekend."

Brendan slid his hand between Ste's legs, smiling with a mischievous air.

"What a funny coincidence! That's exactly my plan for the weekend," he whispered, dipping to kiss Ste's neck and stroking his member harder and harder between his fingers.

"There was no need to leave for this," pointed out Ste with a sigh, yet also reaching out toward the bedside table for another condom.

"At least here we don't run the risk of being interrupted by Che-... Oh my-" Brendan exhaled a hiss of pleasure as Ste slipped the condom on his dick. Then, with the skill he had acquired over time, Ste straddled Brendan's lap and sank onto him, beginning the slow pleasurable ride. Suddenly, he stopped and looked into Brendan's eyes, snatching a groan of protest out of his mouth. "But ... May we go G.A.Y. later?"

Brendan's breathing was heavy; his heart bouncing in the chest. He was squeezing Ste's hips, forcing him to follow his rhythm. He could see his long eyelashes vibrating like butterfly's wings and his mouth gasping soundless, the sweat slipping between their bodies. It was in moments like these that he thanked God for making him gay. It was also obvious that in moments like these, Brendan would have promised Ste the moon.

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xHOx

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Clubs - since he used to have to run them for a living - and especially the gay ones, had never thrilled him; and he knew that it was the same for Stephen. However, Ste had him against the ropes, reminding him that he had followed him, even to places he basically hated, in the times of Noah. So Brendan decided that for once he could please him. In return, Ste had promised him that they would spend the next Sunday in bed, with no idea in mind, weird or otherwise, but screwing.

The place was full to bursting point, as expected, and the music was of excellent quality. Having launched artists like Lady Gaga, it could not be otherwise. Maybe he should have some live performances at Chez Chez, hoping to launch another Michael Jackson. The probability that it would happen in a hole like Hollyoaks was zero, of course.

The dance floor walls were decorated with a myriad of mirrors, giving the optical illusion of more space. He found that idea pretty brilliant and he mentally noted it for a possible renewal of ChezChez.

He drank his Jameson, looking askance at Ste who was nibbling at the straw of his soft drink, eyes wide at the muscular and sweaty bodies writhing on the dance floor, a smile between ecstatic and idiotic on his face and a foot beating time.

When Ste turned toward him, perhaps feeling observed, that smile grew enormous.

"Fancy a dance?"

"No way," Brendan answered curtly. The smile instantly vanished from Ste's face.

Then he handed him his empty glass, making it turn smartly on three of his finger tips. "But I'd take another one like this."

Ste gulped down the last sip of his drink with a noisy suck on the straw, then grabbed Brendan's glass and got up, heading towards the bar. As Ste was swallowed by the crowd, Brendan suddenly felt his heart sink in a suffocating blanket of foreboding. Losing sight of him was depressing. It was one of the things he had hated most in their last long break; among not knowing what was he doing, or thinking, or saying – in practice that Ste had a whole life without him – sometimes he found even the simple act of his breathing in his absence, insufferable.

So he did the only thing that might relieve him from that grim oppression: he got up and went looking for him.

The bar was full of hands, arms, shoulders, bodies that collided with each other. Ste had to elbow from left to right to draw the bartender's attention and proceed with his order. On the other hand, he'd drawn the attention of many other men in the immediate vicinity, too. Ste remembered, just in time, that a smile, especially in certain places, could mean an express invitation to do more, so he tightened his lips and, face down, headed back the way he'd come, hoping to find on his first attempt Brendan and the sofa to which he had been nailed since their arrival.

He stopped in the middle of the floor and stood up on his tiptoes, searching for the exact path to his destination. The whiskey was out of the glass and onto his face and new shirt a moment later.

When he recovered from surprise, he spotted the guy who had jostled him and then kept on dancing as if nothing had happened. The thought of being so ignored filled him with a blind rage.

"Moron!" he shouted at his back.

The man turned to him, and without even stopping dancing, stared with a dazed smile. He was totally groggy, and Ste sadly thought he could kiss his money goodbye. But he would not give up so easily.

"Hey! Have you seen what you've done?" he yelled again, hoping that brain-dead heard him above the din of the music. "I want you to pay me back for it!"

At first, the man acted as though he was going to ignore him, but then he looked at him more carefully and suddenly wound his arms around Ste's shoulders. "And what will you give me in return?" he asked.

Ste's face went up in flames. "Get your hands off me!" he growled, trying to free himself.

The man was too tall and big for him to shake off, and instead of him releasing Ste, he squeezed him even tighter, imprisoning him with both arms and then trying to kiss him. As he was trying to get him off, Ste remembered that he still had the empty glass in his hand thought to himself that if he could just raise his arm, even slightly, he could hit him on the head. But he realized almost at once that he couldn't. He wasn't in a movie. Fortunately, he soon noticed the giant's grip becoming weaker, realizing only later that Brendan had appeared behind him and was twisting the guy's arm behind his back.

The man fell on his knees under Brendan's force and started moaning in pain. Only after he'd nodded frantically in response to something Brendan said, his lips and moustache glued to the man's ear, was he released from Brendan's iron grip and allowed to fade into the crowd at the speed of light.

Brendan stared after him for few seconds, a smirk, satisfied and devilish at the same time, under the dark shadow of his moustache. When he turned to Ste, he faced his angry gaze and folded arms.

"Well done, Mr. Brady! Thanks to you I lost my money."

Ste planted the empty glass in Brendan's hand and marched grumpily towards the place where he had been twenty minutes before. Brendan followed him with a perplexed frown printed on his face.

"What's your problem, kid?"

Ste halted his frantic rush, turning with a scowl, if possible, more irritated than before. He hated being called that, and even more by him.

"You shouldn't have horned in. I could have sorted it out myself," he breathed a few inches from Brendan's nose.

Brendan snorted a short laugh. "Yes, of course. That much was obvious. "

"I have survived so far without you," then he seemed to reflect for a moment. "Sorry... inspite of you."

The man froze, losing his amused expression all of a sudden. "Tell me, Stephen, what would you do in my shoes? How would you react if you saw someone you love in trouble? You'd turn your back on it? "

Ste dropped his angry gaze in a second, his lips struggling to form the appropriate answer.

"No," he piped finally, abandoning his arrogance and deflating his shoulders in a submissive way. "I wouldn't. I think I'd have done much the same, me."

Brendan handed him his handkerchief so that he could wipe off the whiskey, shining on his skin in golden drops.

"Ta for saving me," Ste muttered, rubbing his face and his neck, then starting to unbutton his soaked shirt.

Brendan tried with all his forces not to pay attention to that gesture, because although for Ste it was completely casual, for him it was enough to make his head spin.

"It's just a hanky," he replied lightly.

Ste snorted a half smile, giving him back what once was a pristine square of cloth. "It was a really big guy. And although I couldn't get my money back...well...thank you anyway. Your drink is gone as well."

"Who cares, Stephen?" said Brendan impatiently, surrounding Ste's neck with his hand. "He dared to put his dirty hands on you. And anyway, I know how to recover my drink."

Saying that, Brendan brought his lips to Ste's and kissed him. And the flavor of his favorite whiskey was quickly replaced with one more sweet and sensual, that of Stephen's mouth, his tongue at first answering timidly and then more and more in tune with his.

Brendan had even forgotten that he was kissing a guy on the edge of a dance floor full of people. When they parted to breathe, one glance was enough to convince them that they needed to leave and get back to the hotel as quickly as possible.

Upon leaving the club, Brendan couldn't break away from him. Something unexpected had happened in his head, and keeping his arm around Ste's shoulders, walking down the street, grabbing him and kissing him, having not a care about anyone, seemed to him the most natural thing in the world.

Suddenly something dangerous and jagged hissed a few millimeters from his ear.

A woman's scream, heard just as they rounded the corner, had caused Brendan to instinctively flinch, causing the improvised weapon to accidentally deflect from its path and miss its target by only a few damn inches.

Ste realized that it was an attack, seeing the top of a broken bottle at his feet and the drunken and terrified face of the guy who had bothered him a few minutes before at the nightclub reflected in Brendan's furious eyes.

In an instant the man found his back slammed against a wall, and a moment later, folded in two, his stomach like a sheath for Brendan's punch. Ste knew from personal experience how horrible it was; so horrible that you felt like you would never be capable of breathing again, the dread that you didn't even know how to do it anymore.

"Brendan?" he said, touching his arm lightly, "Let's call the police."

Ste glanced quickly over his shoulder and saw that some people had gathered outside the alley; they were keeping themselves away by a sizeable and intelligently safe distance.

However, Brendan seemed completely impervious to people's looks and Ste's voice or presence.

Ste saw another punch dart towards the man, who was still struggling to find air that wouldn't immediately come, and heard bones crunching and sickening sound of retching.

"Brendan!" he tried again, this time more forcefully. "Stop it! Call the police!"

For a fleeting second he saw himself pinned against the wall at the mercy of Brendan's blind fury.

Brendan shook off Ste's hand, pushing him back roughly, and without even turning around.

Ste stumbled backwards, ending up with his butt on the ground and his right hand on broken glass. He felt a burnings sensation, then quickly bounced up and tried to stop Brendan who was still sending quick fire hits into the guy's high areas: chin, mouth, nose.

Involuntarily, tears brimmed Ste's eyes, as the blood and the man's face, curled into a grimace of pain, became little more than a blurred image. When Brendan, to avoid the onlookers, grabbed his arm and dragged him down a side street, the only things that took up Ste's mind were the red of blood, the man moaning and squirming, crumpled on the asphalt, and the animalistic look on Brendan's face that he had never seen before.

His head was so busy attempting to clear the images of the last few minutes, that when he found himself in the elevator of the hotel, he didn't remember how he had arrived. He found himself standing before the room's door, Brendan urging him to enter, but Ste was looking into eyes with the same empty expression as when they were running.

"Gimme the key, please," Ste said, almost not recognizing his own voice.

All he could think was that he couldn't stay in the same room as him.

Brendan snorted with an incredulous wince. Then his eyes narrowed on Ste, carefully.

"What's this? Blood?"

Ste felt Brendan touch him convulsively, raising his white shirt, now bloodstained. But where he expected to find a wound, there was nothing.

"I don't understand," said Brendan, puzzled. "Where's this blood from?"

Ste barely remembered the episode when he had injured his hand - likely he had inadvertently wiped his hand off on his shirt - he raised his arm in front of Brendan's watchful eyes.

The latter anxiously grabbed his hand and began to asses the cuts.

"I'll take you to the hospital," he said with a worried look.

Ste silently shook his head, as a flash of anger reappeared in Brendan's eyes, something looking like: _I should have killed that bastard._

As if Brendan had actually given voice to his thoughts, Ste replied: "It wasn't him. It was you."

His voice was once again familiar to him, as was his determined frown, and with his injured hand still held up in mid-air, again asked for his key. Because the true reason for the second room didn't matter; just as back in the afternoon when he'd feared that Brendan wanted to keep denying their relationship in front of people's eyes, but had then set the matter straight with sex – Ste was feeling as though he should spend the night there. Now everything came to him confused and distorted, as if it had happened ages ago, not that afternoon.

Brendan looked at him quizzically, reaching out his hand to stroke him.

"Come in. You need to disinfect-"

Ste pulled himself back and closed his shoulders, lowering his head, as if he expected a punch or a slap.

Brendan could feel him shaking and sighed in bitterness, seeing again the skinny and sobbing kid, huddled in a ball on the gray and dusty floor of Chez Chez's cellar.

"Stephen, come here," he groaned, making another attempt to touch him.

He wanted to squeeze him, to reassure him, to tell him that he could never hurt him, never again. But Ste winced again, going back one step.

With thoughts of trying to speak to him later, once he had calmed down and realized that he had nothing to fear from him, Brendan handed Ste the key card.

"Okay, as you wish. Good night, then."

Ste locked himself in the chamber, as he had done in the afternoon, and almost immediately a biting anxiety replaced his irritation. He lay on the bed, not undressing, staring worriedly at the door that connected to Brendan's room - he didn't have the key - and then his hand, which had started throbbing like a sick heart. After half an hour, the most terrible images of that night constantly running through his mind, everything started clearing. He stood up and went to the table on which sat a computer, offered by the hotel.

_Connected._

_Research._

_Timetable._

_London-Chester._


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you guys for your reviews, even if they are very few compared to the number of visits. I'd also like to know what the shyest people think. Thank to Raina aka GeminiLove for her time and kindness.**

** Enjoy**

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**Chapter 10**

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The sun was still low in the sky as he stopped in front of the front door, asking himself where his keys had finished. Tension, that had tormented him since he had left the hotel and temporarily died down during the journey, came back implacable. Finally he found his keys, which had been in the pocket of his jacket from the start.

When his phone rang, he jumped, dropping them. Then he ignored Brendan's call again, swallowing a few swears and a desperate desire to cry.

"Shit!" he snapped. He had rushed to pick up the keys from the ground with the injured hand, re-opening some of his cuts.

Amy appeared on the doorstep, just as he was busy hiding his hand under a bunch of tissues, not wanting to give anyone any explanation. Completely useless.

"Ste!" cried the girl, staring at him as he was a ghost; then she threw open her eyes on his blood that had soaked the tissues.

Ste slipped in home quickly, dropping himself onto the sofa and the bag in a corner. Only at that moment puffing a broad breath as if he had held it for hours.

"Ste?" tried Amy again, cautiously. "What happened?"

"Not now, Ames" he gasped as he tried to calm himself with slow breaths. "Don't worry."

He ignored another call from Brendan, as well as his following texts and a few voice messages.

"I'm gonna go to bed," he said wearily, as he walked into his room, careful not to make noise.

He didn't want to wake up the kids too.

"You don't need anything, do ya?" she asked.

"I just need my bed" he replied, giving a faint smile to reassure her. "Go back to sleep."

He entered his room, undressed and dived face down on his bed. His phone started ringing again.

He stared at the display for a few seconds, then he took the call.

"Bren?"

"Stephen!" thundered a voice from the other side of the phone. "Where the hell are you?"

"Home.

A sharp silence broke Brendan's gasping for long moments. "What do ye mean 'home'?"

"I caught the train to Chester last night and then the bus to Hollyoaks."

"Why the fuck did ye do that?"

"I wanted to stay away from you," was the harsh reply .

Brendan said nothing for a while, but Ste could imagine his expression; afflicted with anger. His heart missed a beat. Then the thoughts about last night got the upper hand over his brief moment of weakness.

"I need to think," he added.

"What about?"

"Everything," answered Ste.

Brendan let out a frustrated growl.

"I'm gonna come to ye, so we can talk."

"Don't! I- "

Brendan cut off the call. Ste sighed, dejected, then switched off the phone, thinking that he should have done it much earlier. He lay back on the bed, but the tension of the last few minutes made all of his desire to sleep fade away.

.

.

xHOx

.

.

"Don't move, love!"

"Ouch!"

Cheryl had started rubbing some gel onto her nephew's bruised cheek. She had asked Declan if he had gotten into a fight, but he had assured her that it had been an accident: he didn't see the ball coming.

"If I knew who did this," said the woman, angry.

Declan snorted, trying to end the torture. "It wasn't his fault," he began, referring to one of the boys he had started playing the bloody game with, "I wasn't paying attention."

Finally, he began to slip out from his aunt's care, but ended up bumping into his father, who entered the front door at that moment.

_Two hours earlier._

Brendan didn't drive on the highway. He flew.

Obviously his first stop was the council estate.

He didn't even care to inform Stephen of his arrival in the village. He'd had enough of being stuck on the phone for hours, guessing if the boy would answer or not.

Finally he was at the door of Ste's flat. He started beating against it as if he wanted to break it down.

"Stephen!" he cried. "Open the door, Stephen!"

After another punch, Brendan finally heard the lock click. Ste looked at him frowning, in silence.

"I want an explanation," he blew in his face; anxiety and anger, every feeling accumulated in the last few hours were compressed in his chest like quick drying cement. His eyes fell on Ste's hand, roughly bandaged. "How's your hand?"

Ste shrugged nonchalantly, then pulled the door to behind him, making sure that there were no children around. He knew, however, that his care would be superfluous: at that moment Brendan's voice wasn't a whisper.

"What happened, Stephen?" asked Brendan, his lips stiff and breathing labored from Ste's silence, more and more obstinate.

"You know," he said finally.

"No, I don't. Enlighten me!"

Ste began to bite his lips, staring at his shoes uneasily. Then he looked up, glaring into Brendan's eyes more firmly. "I can't do it anymore!"

"What," he asked in a chocked whisper.

"Us. I can't. Not after what happened last night," added Ste.

"What?" asked Brendan again, frowning. "You mean the aggression, don't ye?"

Ste nodded.

"That guy could have killed me, Stephen. I should have let him try?"

Ste shook his head, "'Course not. But he was on the ground, unconscious, and you kept hitting him. And your eyes...God..." Ste paused, breathing deeply.

"What?"

"I've never seen you like that, even when you hit me."

"Are you making a comparison between that guy and you? How many times do I have to tell you...?"

"Yeah. It's not the same thing," Ste interrupted him, his eyes narrow and careful. "And what happens if something like that happens again, and there's no stopping you, just as last night?"

Brendan looked at him, puzzled, and his heart started beating painfully.

"Are you kidding?"

"You need help, Brendan."

"What?"

"Professional help," Ste clarified.

Brendan let out a little nervous laugh and began to shake his head in disbelief.

Ste nodded vigorously, "It helped me. It really did," he replied.

"Said the guy who smashed my head with a baseball bat," said Brendan, coldly.

"Listen," resumed Ste, as if Brendan's words had not even touched him, "If you decide to do it, I'll be at your side. Otherwise..."

Brendan glared at the determination in Ste's eyes. "I have no intention of letting someone analyze me in fucking counselling, Stephen."

"We've nothing more to say then."

Ste took a step back towards the inside of the flat and slammed the door, shutting Brendan out, rigid and impassive.

"You're making a big mistake, Stephen," he shouted.

No answer, no breathing.

"If you want to talk about else you can find me at the club. Do ye hear me? If you don't come there within half an hour, it's over, Stephen. Do you understand? For good."

Silence.

Brendan drove the car in the direction of the village and then went to Chez Chez, thinking back to Ste's unacceptable ultimatum...and his own.

A grin immediately took shape under his mustache, and he thought that any idiocy in the boy's little head would have faded as soon as he had regained his mind, wishing to be fucked properly. And certainly he would wait for that much less than the half an hour he had set.

An hour and half a bottle of whiskey later, his mind was completely clouded. But one thing was clear and he could feel it burn in his throat and then land inside his stomach with a heavy thud.

Stephen didn't come.

Stephen didn't show up.

Stephen had decided to get out of his life forever.

And just for a few punches against a drunk criminal's face.

He swallowed the last sip of whiskey that slid lazily behind his palate, no burning, no taste, and finally, under Rhys' puzzled gaze and that of the early costumers', he walked unstably towards the exit.

The sky had turned into darkness and the cold rain began to slide under his clothes; he felt it absorbing under his skin and flowing in his veins among blood and whiskey. Yet his unsteady legs carried him along the road that would lead him back to Ste's flat.

Again, he punched the door until he heard the lock click as if in a perfect deja-vu. This time, however, it wasn't Ste to open up, but a man looking like a cabinet, staring at him menacingly.

Brendan ignored him and tried to cross the doorstep.

"Stephen!" He yelled, his voice slurred by alcohol fumes. "I'm coming to ye."

"Stephen doesn't want to see you," said the man.

Brendan barely recognized him as one of sweet Amy's last pastimes, a kind of soldier or a doctor or whoever the fuck he was, with an absurd name for women, and who had blocked his way and had pronounced the name of Stephen, as if everyone had a right to call him that.

"Stephen, please," he cried again. "We need to talk. I'm not moving from here. Do you hear me? I'm not leaving. "

"But that's just what you're gonna do," snarled Ally, keeping Brendan at a distance with his big fat hand against his chest. "You're scaring the kids."

Brendan tried to move him out his way, but his own efforts were uncoordinated and he ran the risk of falling. "Get out of my face, you troll!" He growled, his tone shuffling and his eyesight more and more weak.

The fist that tried to hit Ally did nothing but put an end to an already precarious situation. Brendan landed with his ass in the muddy water and no memory as to how he got there.

A hoarse laugh climbed up through his throat as he saw the door closing.

As he got up, he noticed that it had almost stopped raining. But his clothes were glued to him, so much so that it was difficult to walk. He decided to go home and try again later; when he was more sober and Stephen, more reasonable.

He had just opened his flat's front door when he collided with Declan.

He knew he wasn't giving a good impression with his miserable appearance: he could see it on his son's face or Cheryl's, who was making her lip's shake, unable to emit a sound.

And before his sister recovered the power of speech, he stretched out a hand in front of her.

"Not now, sis."

Then he took the direction of the bedroom.

He should take a shower, a hasty wash at least, but he was feeling apart, in every way, and didn't have strength enough to go beyond the four steps that separated him from his bed.

Unexpectedly, his son stepped between him and the bedroom's door, looking at him grimly, his eyes shining.

"What have you done to Ste?" he hissed in a low voice so that only each other could hear.

Brendan looked at him incredulously, "I'm the only one who's drunk, am I not, son? Why would I do something to Stephen?"

"Because you have the power to always ruin everything," growled softly the youngest.

Brendan stiffened. His ears were whistling and his head had already left him completely, straight towards an alternative universe: was it really his son in front of him?

"Do you think so?"

His son nodded, his eyes hardening and his breathing raising his chest frantically.

"You move out of here then."

Declan widened his eyes, petrified. His father didn't mean what he had just said, he thought confused.

"Tomorrow morning, the first thing you'll do will be to go on board of that fucking boat and get back straight to your mother."

"But..." tried the boy.

"Tomorrow you go back home. End of!" he thundered, categorically.

Saying that, he pushed Declan aside with two fingers, moving him out his path, and then slammed the door against his astonished face.


	11. Chapter 11

**In this chapter I've made Ally a doctor. Remember, I wrote most of this fiction a year ago when many of us thought Ally was a doctor, a soldier and a nice guy. Brendan is still up to his old ways and for the same reasons, but he'll change in the end as he's changed in the show.**

**Thank you very much for your last reviews, I appreciated a lot. And forgive me for delay, but** **unfortunately my fic is translated from italian to english and travels via Facebook a few times for editing, I'm really really sorry for waiting.**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ally tied off the last suture, Ste grinding his teeth, eyes half-closed between the temptation to look at the final outcome and the fear of doing so.

You'd think he would be used to it. The scars that covered his skin, like little threadlike worms of whitish ink, could fill whole pages of the book that had been his life, a warning not to repeat the same mistakes. A memorandum of pain.

"You should go to the hospital," said Ally in a low voice as he carefully put all his instruments back into his medical bag.

"I didn't think the wounds were that bad," replied Ste, "and... I'm used to worse things."

A hint of laughter appeared on his mouth, immediately choked by Amy's deadly serious expression.

"What?" he asked, imagining the frantic workings of Amy's mind; he could almost see her thoughts in turmoil behind her bright eyes.

Her expression betrayed her every time. Ste realized that she was holding herself back because of Ally, but also that she would explode as soon as possible. However, he foolishly thought that he could postpone that moment forever.

"I have too often witnessed the conclusions to stories like yours. Trust me...they haven't been nice endings." said Ally, interrupting the train of his thoughts.

Ste looked at him with a sharp frown of question.

"All of them used to understate the warnings...or to deny them. Morgues are full with cases like yours."

Ste stiffened and his frown looked for Amy, who tried to elude him in every way.

"I won't be a case," said Ste harshly. " "And Amy shouldn't be spreading around my business."

Ally let out a bitter sigh and stood up.

Ste realized he had been too harsh and tried to make up for his incredible lack of tact.

"I'll be fine. Thank you for everything," he finally said, raising his carefully wrapped hand in front of Ally's impassive gaze.

"If you say so," the man concluded, grabbing his bag. Amy jumped up, following him to the exit.

Once alone, Ste toyed with the idea of taking refuge in his room and locking the door, although he knew that nothing would protect him against his friend or her lecture either.

In fact, Amy came back into the living room faster than he expected, and with an expression that was everything but peaceful.

"You shouldn't blurt out my business," he began, being careful to keep the tone low so as not to wake the children.

"He's my boyfriend," said Amy naturally.

"Exactly! Yours... not mine."

"I was dead worried for you. I knew you'd have more trouble because of him," concluded the girl on the verge of tears.

And at this point, Ste laid aside his weapons and brought down all the walls of his defences. Then he went towards her and hugged her.

"No need to worry about me," he said softly, stroking her hair. "I'm done with Brendan Brady. I promise."

Only at the moment, Ste realized that saying those words aloud left a bitter taste of something that he could neither swallow nor spit.

In the end, telling Amy the reasons behind his decision did nothing to alleviate the burden in his chest or sweeten his mouth.

And she knew it perfectly, she knew how much it would cost and how difficult it would be for him. But she also knew he could do it. It had worked for a year, it would work for the rest of his life.

However, Ste thought that a Brendan-free lifetime would feel like a very long time.

**.**

**.**

**xHOx**

**.**

**.**

The last thing he wanted at this moment in his life was to go back to Belfast, see his mother's pout, his brother's stupid smile, listen to Mike's unsolicited advice or rumors amongst his relatives concerning his father, or even worse, about him when he used to go to school or training during the year. He was finished with all this, and his father could not force him to live a life that didn't fit anymore, that sent him to bed with a huge weight on his heart and pulled him down every holy morning, making him repent of waking up.

_If it wasn't for Ste..._

He couldn't think of the last months without hearing his voice, listening to his jokes or his funny laugh, without the thought of something warm and soft living a few hundred miles from his home, over the sea.

Declan pulled the strap of his backpack.

_No._

He wouldn't go back to Belfast. Ste would help him. Again.

**.**

**.**

**xHOx**

**.**

**.**

Amy had suddenly become very kind and more loving than usual with Ste. She had prepared a mug of warm milk for both, staying to chat with him on the couch in the living room, like in the old days, before Ally came into her life.

"I trust you," she said before wishing him a good night. "You are much stronger and more of a man than he wants you to believe. I love you."

Ste thanked her with a huge smile. "I love you too," he replied as he locked himself in the bedroom.

Lying onto the bed, he started thinking about the recent events, but he could not help but also think that it would be difficult for his heart to carry out what his head had set.

He had literally touched the sky with a finger when he had gotten back with Brendan; when he had finally thought that he could have a proper relationship with him, without the shadow of violence and anger that was like a backdrop to his fears. But, like the previous times, as soon as something special was taking life between them, it was always destined to miserably die at the first cry. Sometimes he wondered if there was a curse that persecuted him.

He closed his eyes for what seemed like a second, or a few minutes or maybe hours - he didn't know precisely - when a noise woke him. He saw a shadow trying to climb over the sill of the window that faced the back of the building. Ste jumped from the bed and onto the intruder in a shot, knocking him to the floor.

"Ste! It's me!" sobbed the shadow, as it tried to shield its face from Ste's punches.

"Declan?"

Ste turned on the light in the room, his mouth open in amazement.

"Good heavens! What the hell are you doing here, at this hour?"

Declan looked down. "I ran away. Dad wants to send me back home and I don't wanna go."

Ste rubbed his tired face. "I'll have trouble for this, you know that."

Declan was sad all at once. "I couldn't stay with him. You have no idea what state it was. I was scared," he sobbed, staring into Ste's eyes.

"Yeah," agreed Ste, stifling a yawn. "Brendan Brady often does have such an effect. But he's still your father..."

Ste stopped instantly and gently touched Declan's face as he noticed an abnormal bruise covering the left side of his cheekbone.

"Christ," he said. "Was it him?"

Declan was silent, bowing his head again.

"How could he?"

Ste didn't realized that he raised his voice. "Now he'll listen to me," he growled, hit by a dull rage, as he grabbed his clothes from the chair beside the bed.

"Don't go." The boy stopped him, gripping his arm. "He was drunk, he didn't know what he was doing."

Ste shook his head incredulously. "You know what? You sound like me when he started hitting me. I would have done or said anything to defend him, but the truth is that he has gone on because I did nothing to stop him. Don't make my same mistake."

"Ste, please," said Declan. "Let me stay here. No one will know. I'll call Cheryl tomorrow and I'll tell her I'm already on the ferry."

Ste shook his head again. "They will find out quickly that you're not home. You can't do this. You're not even fifteen."

"I'm almost your age when you left your home."

"It was different," replied Ste, "I had no one. You've got a mother who loves you. You've got a family and a place to go back to."

"I can't go back to Belfast!" sobbed the boy with more force. "You know very well the hell that my life has been lately. Please... let me stay with you. I need a friend. A true friend."

Ste took a deep breath, trying to think quickly, despite his brain being clouded by fatigue and lack of sleep, hoping to make the right decision in the end. He wasn't even scared of Brendan's reaction or taking another punch to the ribs. Hiding a minor was a crime and he couldn't afford to go to prison.

"Okay," he said in the end. "Just for tonight. Then we'll try to fix everything with the help of Cheryl. She'll know what to do, won't she?"

Declan nodded among sobs growing weaker and weaker.

**.**

**.**

**xHOx**

**.**

**.**

Brendan's eyes widened suddenly as he was awakened by Cheryl's squeal coming from upstairs.

"Brendan! Oh, Baby Jesus! Brendan!"

The man sat up in the bed, stretching his muscles; his head throbbed like crazy, and the sudden opening door had the same effect as a gunshot to his ears.

"Declan is gone!"

Brendan stared at his sister.

He hadn't done it again, he thought in disbelief.

He rubbed his face with his hands and then turned, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"He awakened early as always and-" a vigorous yawn made the end of his hypothesis incomprehensible.

Cheryl shook her head and handed him a leaf of paper. "His things aren't here any longer and he left this."

The woman found it unnecessary to add that the message was exclusively directed towards him.

Brendan felt an unpleasant pang in his chest at reading the three words written in capital letters, and underlined ferociously.

I HATE YOU!

He had made headway with his son for six months, until now.

Great job.

Congratulations Brady.

"I'm gonna take a shower and then I'll look for him."

Cheryl's eyes widened in horror. "Shower? You must call the police!"

Impassively, Brendan walked into the kitchen and, after swallowing a quick sip of coffee, took the direction of the stairs.

"How can you be so cool?" his sister cried in a cracked voice .

Brendan looked at her for a moment, before he started going up. "Because I already know where he is."


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry again for this shameful delay, but life out of here is hard and cruel. Thanks a lot for your feedback. keep it up and enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**.**

**.**

**.**

The night burned. In every possible way. It wasn't unusual for July. The fire he felt both inside and out, however, had nothing to do with the midsummer heat that could break your breath and condense onto your skin in a myriad of tiny sticky drops.

He couldn't understand how could Ste keep sleeping despite a heat like this.

His night, instead, had been a sleepless one, as though the bed was a table bristling with nails.

He had gotten up several times to quench his thirst. He had since taken off his shirt, remaining next to the window. He had stood here motionless for ages, in his underwear, hoping in vain to catch a little fresh air, leaving him as dissatisfied as the sight of Ste's shape huddled under the sheets. So close and yet still so unapproachable.

He had never thought he would have such strong feelings for another guy. It was something he couldn't understand, but from the first time he and Ste had met, this unexplainable thing had started plaguing him.

At first he had thought Ste was a nice friend, just this; then he had realized he was becoming an unbearable need, besides an uncomfortable and a strange warm feeling in the middle of his chest, that used to dry up his throat, not giving him a break all night long.

However, by morning, his senses had calmed, his breathing had returned to normal and the heat wave had decreased, so that he had finally crumpled against Ste's body, breathing his smell and counting his heartbeats, wishing that the moment would never end.

**.**

**xHOx**

**.**

Brendan checked his phone for the umpteenth time. No text from Declan, nothing from Ste and this latter event - or rather un-event - left him, more than anything else, with a bad taste in his mouth. Like gall.

Not because six months ago he had seriously believed that giving Stephen another punch had served something, like making him understand the meaning of lying and scheming behind his back. Not really.

But he had really trusted in Stephen's maturity, in his being a father as he was, or more.

The fact that Declan had taken refuge again next to Stephen- and he was pretty sure on that - didn't hurt him as much as the fact that Stephen had hidden his son from him again. Just the thought was unbearable, so much so that, for a mad moment, he had hoped that Stephen had nothing to do with all that.

He stowed the phone, after many unsuccessful attempts to get in touch with Ste or his son, and finally decided to go out.

**.**

**xHOx**

**.**

Amy had tried in vain to fall back asleep after a glance on at the watch on the bedside table showed that it was only 5:05. Ally was away for work and, last night, Ste's every word had been ominous, flooding her dreams with even more ominous images.

In the end she decided to get up, take a cup of tea and clear her head. After that, she started cleaning up some of the mess in the kitchen and living room.

Around 7:00, she heard a soft knock at the door that left her uncertain and thinking for long moments. She had a faint idea about who it was and at the same time not the slightest desire to verify. Meanwhile, the tap on the door became more and more insistent and louder, and she felt forced to open up.

As she had hypothesized, it was him, the devil himself.

"You reckon this is the right time for coming here, do ya?"

Brendan ignored her protests and the laughable force with which she was keeping the door ajar, barring his way. With a little push he entered the apartment and closed the door behind him.

"I wanna see my son... and Stephen."

Amy frowned, puzzled. "What the hell are you talking about? I've no idea where your son is, but I'm absolutely sure that Ste has no intention to talk to you."

"You think so, do ye?"

"I know," she answered dryly.

Brendan grunted a short, bitter laugh, while Amy held his gaze without flinching, her arms crossed.

"I'm very very glad he's done with you once and for all," she added in mockingly.

Brendan shook his head, slowly. "What's between me and Steven will never end. Write that down somewhere, sweetie." His expression stiffened suddenly"And now bring Declan here. Now!"

"You can't give orders in my home. And Declan has never been here anyway. So... do me a favour: get lost!"

Amy opened the door with the clear intention of sending him away for good, but Brendan closed it again with a bang. The woman stood petrified, staring at the man walking towards the middle of the flat.

He opened the kids' bedroom cautiously and a small glance was enough to ensure him that his son wasn't there. He then checked the bathroom, Amy's room, empty of course, and finally Stephen's. The thought that he really had blundered it barely touched his mind, as the sight of Stephen and his son, sleeping embraced, hit him like a stab in his heart.

He approached the bed slowly, he almost couldn't and didn't want to believe what was in front of him. With the corner of his eye, he caught sight of some jeans and a t-shirt, carefully folded on the chair beside the bed, and he knew that they belonged to Declan. He picked them up and with a cold gesture, which really didn't feel his own at that moment, and threw them on to his son. The latter opened his eyes and looked at his father for a few moments with a disoriented expression.

"Come on", said Brendan calmly. "Get dressed and wait for me outside".

Declan looked at him more carefully, but at the same time, worried. In the meantime, Ste opened his eyes and Brendan's bark was the first thing he heard.

"Come on!" Brendan repeated to his son. "Get out!"

First, Ste's reaction was one of confusion, but as he focused on Brendan, and past to Amy's pale face sticking out from behind the man, her eyes wide and her hands against her mouth, he finally began to realize that he troubles were just beginning. Both the men stared each at other, but no word were spoken. Their eyes were enough. Fire in Brendan's. Water in Ste's, for putting out.

Brendan was well-aware that he couldn't remain. He could hear his heart beating a tribal rhythm along with a million drums in his head. He had to get away from there and think hard.

Meantime, in silence, Declan started putting his clothes on. He had just buttoned his jeans when his father gripped him by his arm, trying to drag him toward the exit.

At which point Ste jumped to his feet, standing between the two of them.

"Out of my way" Brendan growled, staring at him with a murderous look.

He couldn't feel this way. He didn't want Stephen to make him feel this way.

Ste straightened his shoulders, a fighting frown a few inches from Brendan's face. "You don't touch him again."

"Get out of here!" Brendan hissed to Declan through gritted teeth. "I don't wanna talk to you, Stephen. I'm gonna take my son back home. Now! "

"No!" Ste cried simply.

Brendan pushed him aside and managed to pull his son again.

Ste reached the door and stood in front of the passage so they could not go anywhere.

"Attention, Stephen!" Brendan growled, in a threatening tone.

But Ste was unimpressed. "I won't let you touch him again. Declan stays here with me."

"Stephen ..."

"No!" yelled Ste harder. "Get out of my home! And stay away from us for good. Stay away!"

A red light flashed before Brendan's eyes. The control he had desperately tried to keep broke with a thundering clamor in his ears, and his hand moved on its own.

The slap struck Ste's face and he lost his balance, stunned. The impact between his head and the door frame was inevitable.

Brendan stood motionless as he watched Ste collapse on himself. He could just barely hear Declan's screams, and Amy's desperation, as the drums in his head started to die.

After an interminable minute, Ste came around and Brendan breathed again, letting out a deep sigh of relief. He made as if to check on his condition, but Declan pushed him back with a power he had never believed his son could have.

"YOU ARE A MONSTER!" yelled the boy in tears. "STAY AWAY FROM HIM!"

Dumbfounded, Brendan watched him rush to Ste's feet.

"It's nothing. I'm fine," croaked Ste in a weak voice, trying to reassure Declan and Amy; the woman had already grabbed the phone to call for help. "It's nothing," Ste repeated.

"Get out!" hissed Amy icily, turning to Brendan. "Now! Or I call the police."

Brendan grimaced in disbelief. But looking in Amy's burning eyes, he could hear a last loud sound in his head, like a crumbling that left him drained of all his strength.

"He ... he slept with ... my son," he muttered, pointing a shaking finger at the girl's face. Finally he left.

Amy grabbed the phone again. "What did I say? I have to call the police. "

"Amy," a muffled voice broke at her side, Ste was able to sit on the floor, his eyes barely open. "Forget it."

"But Ste... he could kill you!"

"Leave it. Please. I'm fine."

Ste managed to get up, leaning on the edge of the bed. He staggered for a moment.

"See?"

He sought Declan's eyes, forcing a smile to reassure him.

Seeing his father freak out that way had been a shock for him.

He only hoped that Brendan wouldn't report him for child abduction, or worse, for kidnapping. He was right, after all.

Later, Ste was sitting at the kitchen table, an ice pack pressed on the bruised side of his head and Amy sitting in front of him, worried about his darker and darker bruise; the children were squatted on the carpet watching their favorite cartoon, and not far, Declan, lost in his thoughts on the couch.

"How are you doing?" asked Amy, whispering.

"Well ... I'm just a little stunned," Ste replied in the same tone.

"Why don't you wanna go to the hospital?"

Ste stared at her as if she had just dropped out of a cloud.

"I've been worse, Amy, and also... I don't wanna lie to any questions."

Amy's eyes widened in surprise.

"Why should you lie? If anyone asks you, just tell the truth. At least Brendan will get what he deserves, a good time."

Ste snorted, exhausted.

"By the way," the girl continued. "You and Declan ..."

"Me and Declan what?"

"I mean ... since when are you two...? You know ..."

Ste frowned in the effort to follow her reasoning.

"Friends?" He went on, puzzled.

Amy let out a brief nervous laugh. "From the way you were close, I had thought something more."

Ste gazed at Amy, his face in that questioning frown, until understanding hit him like a fist.

"NO!" he cried, alarmed, remembering a second later to lower his voice, "No. Where's your head?"

"I'm sorry ... but ... that's just what I saw,"

"You're insane, ain't ya? He's just a kid and..." Ste stopped for a few seconds. "Oh, Shit! Brendan must have thought that I... Shit! Shit!"

He jumped up, then sat down again almost immediately due to dizziness.

Amy shook her head in exasperation and went to offer him the ice pack again.

"Do you think Brendan thought the same?" asked Ste more calmly.

Amy sighed. "According to what he said and his behaviour before... yes, I do."

Ste buried his face in his hands. "God, this is a nightmare."

Suddenly a terrible doubt struck his mind. He got up again, this time slowly and carefully to prevent any dizziness, and walked over to Declan, still sitting on the couch and staring into the distance.

Declan looked up. Ste realized that the boy had tears in his eyes.

"Declan?"

He stood up from the couch, avoiding looking Ste straight in the eye.

"It was your father that hit you?" Ste noticed the alarmed expression on his face and knew he had hit the mark. "Tell me the truth, please."

Declan stood in silence for long seconds, his lips shaking. Finally he shook his head in denial.

"Why did you lie me?"

"I never said it was him, you did."

Ste ran a hand over his mouth.

"Right!" He said; the sound of his voice grew more and more irritated. "I've hidden a minor on the run and have been caught sleeping with him. Congratulations to myself, really!"

He took a deep breath before continuing, "You know what this means?"

"It's all my fault," said Declan without hesitation.

Ste shook his head. "It means that I'm gonna take you back to your father immediately. I'll try to clarify this misunderstanding before he grinds me down once and for all."

Declan shook his head vigorously. "I wanna stay here."

"No, you can't!"

"Why?"

Declan had big tears in his eyes.

"Because I'm not your father!" Ste snapped, as a painful sting moved from his jaw to his bruised head.

"Fortunately"

Ste was at the limit of his patience.

"I could do a lot worse than him. Trust me."

Declan looked at him incredulously for a few seconds, then walked away in the direction of the corridor.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not going back to him," cried the boy, and before Ste could stop him, Declan barricaded himself behind the bathroom door.

"Declan!" Ste called in vain.

"Deccy?" He tried again, more calmly. "I'm getting in trouble 'cause of this. You know that. Why are you doing this to me? "

"I can't go," yelped the youngster behind the door. "He doesn't listen to me."

"Try," said Ste, while a little sense of nausea gripped his viscera. "You'll see ..."

"I think I'm gay," interrupted Declan. "And I know he won't accept it."

Ste was silent, stunned by the revelation. Suddenly everything appeared clearer in his head, and he knew that Declan could be right. It was a paradox, to tell the truth.

"I'm gonna talk with him, me. Okay?" said Ste.

Before Declan reacted, before Amy tried to make him see reason, before anyone could stop him, Ste left the flat, walking towards the village.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks for reviewing and sorry for this tiny chapter.**

**I need another beta-reader desperately. If someone of you is interested...**

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**Chapter 13**

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Ste had been trying to get in touch with Brendan all the morning, without success. Finally, annoyed by countless attempts, he put the phone back into his jeans pocket, heading for Brendan's flat. At the same time, he bumped into Cheryl.

"Hey, babe. Are you okay?" asked the woman, frowning thoughtfully.

Ste's paleness didn't seem health to her, actually – especially in contrast to spectacular purple bruising exhibited on the right side of his face.

"What happened?" she asked, trying again.

"Nothing, Cheryl," he answered quickly. "Can you tell me where Brendan is?"

She shook her head slowly, frowning at him doubtfully. But in truth, she was probably afraid to know the reason he was searching for her brother anyway. "He's not home."

"Wait, Ste!" she called after him, trying in vain to stop him as he rushed towards the club.

Brendan was in the Chez Chez, as Ste had imagined. He started climbing upstairs, then stopped suddenly. He felt the determination that had animated him a moment before vanishing as he saw Brendan against the counter, his back curved, a glass of whiskey in his left hand and a half-empty bottle in the right one. The lights were strangely lower than usual. The music in the background, harrowing. Everything giving a sinister air to the place he had both loved and hated most of his life. Finally Ste moved closer to him.

"What are you doing here, Stephen?" Brendan asked him without turning.

Ste had often thought that Brendan had additional eyes in the back of his head. Maybe it was his mustache that gave him a keen sensitivity. Like cats.

"We need to talk," said Ste, his voice sounding more firm and cogent than it did in his mind.

"My son hates me. He fled from me, and you kept him hidden. Again. End of."

Brendan finally turned, cold expression in the crease of his lips, while his eyes were burning.

"Is there more, Stephen?"

"I can't believe this... For God's sake, Brendan. Did you really think ..."

"Why didn't you call me? Last lesson wasn't enough, apparently."

Ste felt himself sinking into an abyss of ice and mud, the same as two years ago, when their relationship was basically fleeting sex, stolen kisses, broken ribs and bleeding lips.

He took a deep breath, but he was afraid that his voice would still come out cracked and shrill.

"He told me that you beat him up. What was I supposed to do?"

"I've never touched any of my children? Ever! How could you think that I –"

"Because of this!" Ste cried, showing his hand wrapped in bandages, and a surge of anger vested in him, filling his eyes with tears. "And this!" he continued, touching his bruised cheekbone. "Every part of my body could tell you why I believed him."

"I'd never hit my kids."

"And I'd never fuck them," Ste snapped, incapable of stopping his tears.

"I found you two together in bed," said Brendan, stiffening; his voice, though, seemed to lose some of the coldness of a second before.

"Are you insane? Your son? Seriously? He's still a child. Did you really think...with your kid?"

Brendan stood there in a burning silence for a few seconds, then hissed, "Yes."

A ton of bricks fell on Ste's heart, nothing else could have caused him more harm, neither split lip nor a thousand broken ribs.

There was nothing else to add. End of discussion.

He turned, running down the iron stairs. He had to get out of there, before he shouted out all of his pain and his contempt, or worse, do something he could regret for the rest of his life. Now it was over for good. Nothing could heal the wound that had ripped within his soul.

He was hating him. He was hating him as he had never hated before, as he had anyone before.

"Wait, Stephen!" He heard shouting behind his back, the stair steps started waving in front of his wet eyes.

Brendan grabbed him by his arm, turning him around in a single fluid motion. "I didn't mean that," he said, trying to justify himself.

"But you did." Ste concluded. His voice was like a dying breath, and coldness had invaded every muscle and every drop of blood, dripping from his deep wound. "I wouldn't ever touch your kid. Even if he made the first move. The fact that he's gay doesn't change anything."

Brendan snorted a laugh in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"Speak with your son, Brendan. He's been trying to do it for months, he just wants to be listened to...by his father. But let me out. I'm done with you...with all this."

Brendan frown. "My son is not gay!".

Ste shook his head, looking at him with a mixture of disappointment and compassion. "He told me."

"My son is not gay!" Brendan repeated as if those words gushing out of his throat hadn't any inflection, but only the effort to deny them with all his strength.

"Whatever. I've had enough of fighting with you and your sick head." Ste concluded sourly.

He whirled back around to get away from there – from the club, from Brendan's life – without ever stepping his foot back in either again. He should have listened to Amy.

"Okay! Okay! OKAY!" Ste heard thundering behind him, then a firm grip made him turn back around and finally he saw the desperation of defeat on Brendan's face.

"Okay!" Brendan replied, like a roaring mantra that had overwhelmed every corner of his brain, every shiver of his body. "Okay! You're right. I'm sorry. I'll talk to Declan, but we need to talk to each other first off."

Ste tried to break free from his grasp. "About what? Let me go, please!"

"No!" cried Brendan, repenting that he had raised his voice. "No, please," he continued more calmly, trying to keep Ste close to him, stroking his face just so he could feel him again - as it had always been – like an essential part of his being. "We can't give it up, please. Don't-"

"You've never realized how much I loved you," Ste interrupted him, trying to free himself from his grip; beads of sweat covered his forehead and breathing was suddenly becoming hard.

Finally, he freed himself from Brendan's iron grip; but his effort had made his head swirl and his legs weak. "I thought I meant something to you... after all."

"You do," replied Brendan as a little bubble of hope slowly swelled in his chest. He then took Ste's good hand, putting it against his face.

Ste shook his head.

"I can't do it anymore. I-"

"You can, Stephen. Please, trust me."

Brendan moved Ste's hand against his lips, kissing it. "Trust me... for the last time. I swear-"

"Your... your usual... empty... promises– "

But his fingers lingered on Brendan's lips, stroking them. Then, suddenly, he stopped and Brendan frowned as he noticed Ste's face veering toward a deathly whiteness, his eyes glassy, as if he was looking at a point over his shoulder. He felt Ste's hand slipping away.

"Stephen?" he called in a worried tone. "STEPHEN!"

But Ste wasn't any longer able to answer. Everything had become suddenly dark around him. He couldn't hear any sound, feel any pain, not even the air come in and come out of his lungs.

His body sagged suddenly, rolling down the iron ladder. Two, three, four terrible somersaults, and at every shot, the loud squeaking of the metal.

Brendan rushed down the stairs, his chest filled with a million horrible sensations and even more horrible images in his head. He began to touch him, frantically, desperately searching for the slightest throb under Stephen's skin, into his heart, his soul.

Cheryl and Declan happened into the Chez Chez at the same time: the boy because he was worried about Ste; the woman because of screams she had heard by chance while she was going to Price Slice.

"Declan's face was a mask, wiped free of all emotion."

Cheryl rushed to call for an ambulance, frantically pressing the keys on her cell phone.

Brendan had lost the last shred of humanity in his eyes, in his voice, in his every devastating emotion.

He fell down on his knees next to Stephen's inert body. And his groans soaked the air.

.

.

_I will be the one that's gonna find you_

_I will be the one that's gonna guide you_

_My love is_

_A burning, consuming fire_


End file.
